The Best Street in Brooklyn
by JC4ever
Summary: Now for my version of 10.8 and beyond. Flirting, therapy, character development, a dark crime, and some eventual romance/fluff/smut.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, now my take on what happens 10.8 and beyond. The title is a play on "The Last Street in Manhattan," my personal favorite ep of Season 10. There were some lovely "slow-burn" (some critic mentioned that in her review and I agree) scenes in 10.8, and one very loaded exchange between our Bobby and Alex. In fact, that particular exchange is what gave me the idea for this in the first place. When I heard the words, I nearly spit the wine I was drinking out my nose. I also wanted to flesh out Captain Hannah's character a little bit. We have some angst, we have some therapy, and, yes, eventually some smutty, fluffy goodness. And a happy ending, because by God, they deserve it. And so do we. But I digress. I own nothing, because if I did, they wouldn't have been driving to a crime scene at the end of the ep. Oh, and you know how this goes: review and a new chapter will magically appear._

The Best Street in Brooklyn

"Pants on fire?" Bobby inquired after Hildy slammed out of the office.

"Totally," Alex grinned.

Bobby reached for the door handle, then turned back to her, as if flustered. This was repartee they engaged in every day, part of their shorthand with each other. Then why was Alex's inflection so...suggestive?

She felt his discomfiture, enjoyed it. Alex had a secret, and she was thinking it was high time her partner of twelve years was let in on it. Gradually, of course. Timing was everything.

Kizmate was founded on the premise of true love, kismet. In reality, it was like any other business: a hotbed of passions, hidden agendas, greed, and strife. Because these were people, after all. With real emotions, quirks, flaws. But at the heart there was still the belief : true love. As they arrested Danielle, Alex looked up at her partner, reflective.

"We all want to believe," she said softly.

Through the paperwork, the post-mortem with their captain, Bobby kept hearing those words. PJ, Hildy, Danielle, Thomas...they thought they found the real thing. But was anything real? He thought wearily, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Detectives?" Joe Hannah stopped by their desks. "Anyone up for some liquid refreshment?"  
>Alex looked over at her partner, brows raised.<p>

Bobby nodded almost imperceptibly.

"That's a yes?" their boss looked from one to the other. "'Cause psychic is not in my job description."

"Yeah," Alex smirked, slapping her laptop shut, and reaching for the bag.

"Do we get to pick the place?" Bobby put his jacket on, picked up his binder.

"Hey, I'm buying, so I pick," Hannah waved his hand towards the elevator. "Besides, my lovely wife Sharon is joining us. Think we can do better than the usual cop bar."

The place he chose was a step up, quiet and elegant. A well-dressed woman in her early fifties waved enthusiastically as they entered the bar. She was tall, with wavy auburn hair and lively eyes. Alex didn't know Joe Hannah's wife, but Bobby did from back when he was Hannah's partner.

Their captain leaned over to kiss his wife, and inquired, "Got the kiddies sent off to the wilds of fifth grade?"

"More like prep school for juvie," she said in mock dismay, "Haven't had a group like this in years." She turned to greet her husband's detectives.

"Bobby, good to see you!" Sharon hugged him, then offered her hand to Alex. "I feel like I should know you, all that I hear about you."

Alex cut her boss a glance, he just gave her a non committal grin.

They settled at a back table, and ordered drinks and appetizers.

"So, got any juicy stories about my partner?" Alex swirled the martini she was sipping.

"Aw, shucks, there are a few," Even after thirty years in New York, Texas ran through Sharon's speech. She then went on to describe her first meeting with the great Robert Goren. "To hear Joe talk, this guy was like Einstein, only smarter and cockier. And he did not always play well with others. I made Joe bring him home to dinner before their first undercover. He brought a date, some high maintenance art professor," she shook her head. "This b-, this witch turned her nose up at my daddy's barbeque rib recipe."

"Ooh, not a good move," Alex and Joe chuckled, while Bobby managed to look sheepish.

"I took him aside and said three things: I didn't care about my husband's partners low class taste in women, all I cared about was that he was big enough to take a bullet, if need be. I asked him what his scores on the shooting range were. I also mentioned that I had three kids I wanted my husband around to get through college."

Alex burst into laughter, deciding she liked her.

"I never knew that," it was Hannah's turn to look embarrassed. "Sorry, man," he turned to his former partner.

Bobby held up a hand, "She was just protecting her family."

The evening passed pleasantly, with lots of war stories and jokes. Alex loved hearing about Bobby fresh out of the academy, while her partner found himself forgetting the stress of the Kizmate case. Bobby found himself watching Alex through the night, enjoying seeing her in a social setting.

Joe and Sharon Hannah were one of those true love stories. Married thirty years, three kids, avid golfers. They'd met back when Joe was at CCNY, when he was fresh out of the service, Texas transplant. Sharon had been considering a career in law enforcement, but settled on education. She taught in PS in the Bronx, an elegant woman who hid a wicked sense of humor under an air of propriety. Her parents were forever chagrined that she hadn't married to their lofty standards, but Joe had turned out to be the steadiest and most devoted of their childrens' spouses.

The Hannahs left the bar after nine, taking a cab to their home on the west side.

"You're right, darlin', Bobby's been through some rough times," Sharon linked her arm through her husband's.

"Yeah, but he just might be coming around," Joe said soberly.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sharon asked. "You said he was going to therapy."

He snorted, "But he's "coming around" to his partner."

His wife laughed, "You got that, too? What the hell are you gonna do if he is? No rules about it."

"So what do _**you**_ think?" Joe asked in turn.

"Well, I haven't seen him in years, and I don't know her," Sharon demurred.

"But?" Joe patted her cheek. "You have an opinion, you always do."

"Bobby Goren needs to get his head out of his ass, because that woman is in deep with him," Sharon said quietly.

"They have these conversations without sayin' a word," Joe agreed. "Need a God damn translator some days."

"He's a good man, Joe. And I like her," his wife smiled.

The cab arrived and he took her hand after he paid the cabbie, "My best girl-the romantic."

"Look how it turned out for us," she kissed him, then sashayed ahead of him to their front door.

Back at the bar, Bobby tried not to let his mood darken. The evening was winding down, and he was tired.

Always sensitive to his moods, Alex tried to stem the slide, "Nice evening, after the day we had," she smiled.

"Yeah, it was," he shook himself out of his reverie. "What you said earlier...you meant that."

She was momentarily confused, "What I said when?"  
>"In the park, after we arrested Danielle," he prompted. " 'we all want to believe.'"<p>

"You told her the same thing," Alex confronted him gently. "Were you gaming her or did you mean it?"

"Not gaming her," he admitted. "Truth is, I don't know. And you didn't answer my question."

"I used to think so, when I was younger," she said after a silence.

"When you were married to Joe," Bobby's gaze was intense. "So you know that feeling, you've had it in your life."

"It didn't last, though," she said sadly, downing the last of her martini. "Does it ever last?"

Bobby signaled the bartender, "Another round."

"Not sure if we should," Alex grinned ruefully. "we have to work in the morning."

"You-you didn't finish your thought," he paid for their drinks, and took a hefty draw on his scotch.

"It was a rhetorical question," she grinned lopsidedly. "See, I can use those words, too."

"Maybe you _**should**_ be done drinking," he chuckled.

Her face sobered, "I always thought that loving my husband was the one central truth in my life. But then he died, and the years pass." She was making circles with her martini glass on the table, then scooped some of the condensation with a fingertip, licked the drops. "He's been gone for way longer than we were together. And it's different now, I'm different." Her eyes drifted back up to his. "What about you-has there ever been anyone that you thought...?" she let the thought dangle.

"Certainly not the high-maintenance art professor," he mustered a grin.

"Seriously," Alex put her hand over his. "If you want to tell me."

"Oh, I've had relationships," he waved his hand. "Maybe even a few-um, long term ones. But every time I'd get to the logical next step, my life would implode. My mother, my _**father" **_he spit that out, "...Frank. I just didn't have the energy or the heart, I guess."

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she whispered. "Not fair."

"The doc, uh, she says I have anger issues, that it has kept me from having a normal relationship," he slammed the rest of his drink back. "If that ain't the fucking understatement of the year."

Alex held her breath. Drunk or not, he was letting her in. "Well, I don't know about that," she disagreed. "Look at us-twelve years. That's not nothin'." She was slurring her words a bit now.

"Friends without benefits," he said sarcastically, then regretted it as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "You-you're the longest relationship I've ever had with a woman," he grabbed her hand tightly, his voice intense. "I respect you and trust you and you are the safe place in my life. I cannot-I _**will not**_ do anything to screw that up."

"I hate them, you know." she said vehemently.

"Hate who?" Bobby queried, confused.

"Your parents, your brother, Gage..." she gulped her martini. "They took a loving, caring little boy, and made him afraid. That he wasn't worthy. In spite of it, you became a wonderful, accomplished, empathetic man. That is, you have empathy for everyone but yourself." Tears blurred her eyes and made her voice crack. "If you don't learn anything else in therapy, I hope you learn that." She got to her feet, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...I've had too much to drink." Alex was contrite.

Bobby got up and took her arm, his own head buzzing, "N-no, you're...I'm glad you can be honest with me." His grin was lopsided, and he stumbled a bit. "Maybe I should have had you be my shrink."

Alex closed her eyes tightly, "There are things said in therapy you might not want me to hear..."

He bent to hear the rest of it as she let her hair fall over her face and her voice dropped to a whisper, "or things I might be afraid to say to _**you**_."

Bobby's gut twisted. This miserable fucking case. Kismet, true love...

"Kismet is a bitch," Alex gave voice to his thought, her snarky smile back.

They were on the sidewalk now, and Bobby hailed a cab. He held the door and made sure she was tucked in. Before he shut the door, he smiled, "See ya in the morning?"

"In the morning," she smiled back. "G'night."

"Call me when you get home," he urged.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm fine, really."

"Humor me," he flicked a finger at a strand of her hair.

Thirty minutes later, Alex was in Forest Hills, safely ensconced in her apartment. She took a seat inside the door and peeled off her boots. She wandered into the bedroom to finish undressing, then a stop in the bathroom to pee, wash her face, and brush her teeth. She regarded herself in the mirror solemnly. Tired, she thought. Sometimes she is surprised at her reflection, expecting to see the Alex of ten years ago. Slapping more cold water on her face, then snapping the overhead light off, she walks into the kitchen. Geez, her legs were still a little rubbery. She set the coffee pot for her morning caffeine fix, then hears her cell phone in the living room, muffled in her purse.

"Shit," she tripped over one of her boots, then the phone stopped ringing. Seconds later the land-line started. "I'm coming, damn it."

"Where were you?" Bobby's voice was peeved.

"Peeing, washing my face, and programming the coffee machine. Oh, and tripping over my boots trying to get to the phone," she limped to her bedroom, favoring her tender left foot.

"TMI, as the kids would say," Bobby admonished, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm home safe. Obviously," she still was grumpy from her lack of grace.

"Why do you wear those boots anyway?" he teased. "They're lethal weapons."

"Because I have this partner who has long legs and I don't want to be left in the dust." she countered with a sigh.

He got the message, she was tired, "As long as you can still walk."

"I don't think I'll be permanently lame," she yawned.

"RICE," he advised.

"At this hour?" she squinted at the clock. Twelve thirty. "I'm not really hungry."

"Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation," he said through gritted teeth.

"Or you come kiss it and make it better," that popped out before she could stop it.

"S-See you in the morning, Eames," he stammered.

"Night," she yawned. "Sweet dreams."

He stared at his phone, listening to the dial tone. Kiss it and...shit, she really was drunk. Bobby mentally shook himself as he flipped his phone back in the cradle. Sweet dreams, he pounded his pillow, then fell back, letting the remnants of the scotch lull him to sleep.

Friday at Major Case was relatively quiet. Bobby arrived at his usual early hour. He dug right into the paperwork left from the Kizmate case. He glanced up and smiled at his partner when she took her seat across from him.

"Your coffee might be cold," he cautioned.  
>"As long as it's caffeine," she tipped the cup to her lips. "Now I know why I keep you around."<p>

"You're welcome," he grinned at her. "How's the foot?"  
>"Huh?" she looked puzzled. "Oh, yeah. It's fine, was able to do my usual five this morning."<p>

"That's good," He rolled his chair around the desk, and sat next to her. For all the rest of the office knew, the partners were doing their usual dance. Bobby couldn't help messing with her. "Because Forest Hills was kind of a long way to go to kiss it and make it better," he murmured near her ear.

Alex brought her head up sharply, and caught the laughter in his eyes. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the blush that stained her cheeks.

Alex slapped her phone closed, and glanced at the clock. Ten twenty. Bobby should be out of his therapy appointment soon. As she drove, she tamped down her anxiety. What if Dr Gyson recommended the department fire him? What if she had to do this job without him? Alex gave herself a mental slap. Whether he was on the job or not, she would stand by him. Her partner trusted so few people in his life, and she was proud to say she was one of them. The year they spent exiled from their professional partnership was hurtful, an experience she didn't care to repeat. A year of Cold Case while Bobby was alternating between freelancing investigations for the FBI and traveling in Europe was enough separation for a lifetime.

The therapy was helping Bobby, she knew it. There was a sea change in him, in some ways like the dashing man she first partnered with. But this was better. His age, once troubling to her, was now an asset. He was taking better care of himself. He was running again, drinking less, and had cut his smoking way back. He was sharp at the crime scenes, and they seamlessly worked together. Sure, he still had fits of temper, he wouldn't be Bobby if he didn't. But he was getting better at reining himself in.

Alex put the SUV in park. All this talk about kismet and true love this week was a big hot button for her. For all her denials, she knew for sure she believed in true love. She hoped the man who was exorcising his demons behind those doors knew, too. Restless, she got out and started a slow stroll back and forth. She looked up at the sky, felt the humidity in the air. A storm was brewing, she hoped it would hold off long enough to process the crime scene.

Bobby listened to Dr Gyson, and he participated. He was going to stay in therapy, as long as she was willing to be his therapist. Not just to keep his badge, but maybe to have a normal life. And that normal life included someone very specific. Alex. Bobby had seen the looks she'd been giving him, hadn't missed her open affection for him or the flirting. She made him feel...like he was a desirable man, that he was worth something. At least he hoped so. It would take time, but she was worth it, they were worth it.

"Same time next week?" he asked Dr Gyson.

"Okay," she smiled as he closed the door behind him.

He picked up his blazer from the coat rack and headed down the hall and out the double doors. Lying. He'd have to stop lying to his therapist. But the one person who needed to know the truth first was standing there, waiting.

"Alex," he felt a surge of happiness. She was here, for him.

"How'd it go?" she strove to keep her tone light, but couldn't hide the bubble of joy rising in her chest.

"Good," he was smiling.

"Good," she felt the frisson of relief. "A call came in, DOA at a bank on west 44th street. The feds are already on their way but I thought we might want to..

"...get there first," he came in to finish her sentence.

Alex grinned happily, her eyebrows raised. She paused a beat before climbing behind the wheel.

He watched her through the window, trying to make up his mind, then slowly walked over to the passenger side.

Still, she didn't move to put on her seat-belt, or even start the ignition. Brown eyes tangoed, saying "we have time."

He smiled at her, reassured her, "Let's go."

_Deep breath. I just watched the last scene in "Blue Knit Cap," and it impresses me as being more shippy each time. Okay, that's part one. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hmm, thanks for the lovely feedback on Part 1. Dark case file, kinda darker than I planned. Some of the Eames family is around, too. Off the subject, I think Anne Dudek of Covert Affairs would make a bang-up younger sister for Alex. Mix in some tenderness and a little family support, and whaddya get? Chapter 2. Standard disclaimers apply... You know what to do to keep this going :)**_

The Best Street in Brooklyn

CSU was busy establishing and preserving the crime scene, when Goren and Eames flashed their badges.

"Whatcha got?" Bobby asked the nearest tech.

"A helluva mess," she shook her head, indicating the body on the sidewalk outside the bank.

"Whoa!" Alex inhaled sharply. "Someone was pissed."

"I'd say," Bobby leaned down and looked at what was left of the man's face, and the large dark red stain over the groin. "Armani suit, briefcase," he lifted one of the hands and sniffed. "Garlic, basil, sun-dried tomato."

"Pesto for breakfast? Alex joked.

"Maybe," Bobby glanced up. "Still alone?"

"Uh huh," Alex assented. "Maybe they're having brunch at the Plaza."

The uniform standing nearest to them looked puzzled. "The shooter?"

Alex cut a glance at her partner, where do they get these kids?

Bobby smirked and explained aloud, "No, son, the feds."

Alex lifted the corpse's left hand. "Wedding ring, sapphire cufflinks, and a very nice Rolex."

"Dressed for success," Bobby quipped. At her surprised glance, he added, "What? You're rubbing off on me."

Alex chuckled, "Twelve years, I should think so."  
>According to his wallet, the deceased was one Samuel Mark Richman, age 40. "Rich man, no more." Alex muttered. Was it just her, or was fate teasing them mercilessly lately? She continued to peruse the wallet's contents. Full complement of platinum plastic, about a grand in cash, and pictures. Wife, two little kids, and an ultrasound picture. She felt her stomach turn as she squinted at the date, 42/11. Her heart sank further as she realized there were two little blips in the picture.

Just then, there was a commotion behind them, "Uh-oh."

Bobby flicked a glance at his partner.

"They're _**your**_ friends," she goaded.

"Former colleagues, kinda," he rose to his feet, and moved towards the two FBI agents.

"Agent Stahl, Agent Morgan," Bobby extended his hand.

"Cut the crap, Goren," Darin Morgan snapped. "Our case."

"Really?" Bobby took in the NYPD crawling over the scene. "Not seeing any signs posted 'FBI.'"

"It's a murder, in a bank, ergo, it's a federal case!" Mary Stahl pointed at the front of the building.

"You can see it's a murder from here?" Goren smirked. "Could be, I dunno, a slip and fall? As for in the bank," he heard thunder in the distance. "I'd say the body's on the public sidewalk. In other words, NYPD."

"NYPD is about to lose the scene," Stahl said sarcastically.

"Nah, we've done this a few times," Bobby waved his arm. As if on cue, the techs popped up several canopies, thus protecting the body and scene from the coming rain. "C'mon," Bobby's tone was jovial. "Don't you have something better to do this fine morning? Leave the mess to the NYPD for a change."

"Fuck you, Goren," Morgan bit out the epithet. "Just because you're back at Major Case, doesn't make you God."

Bobby's expression hardened, "And people who fuck up and get the MCS captain killed shouldn't cast stones."

Stahl blanched at that. Before she could came back at him, or Morgan could do more than sputter, Eames strolled over.

Even from a distance, she could read her partner's body language. Alex held her cell phone out to Stahl, "Speaking of the MCS captain, this is for you."

Alex watched with satisfaction as Captain Hannah staked jurisdiction over the phone. Stahl punched the "end" button, and practically threw it back at Eames.

"Nice to see you again, too," Alex grinned spitefully as the two agents left.

They ducked under the nearest canopy as the rain swept in. Bobby looked askance at her.

"Hannah was in church when Stahl's boss tagged him, and he was pissed," she explained. "Seems Sharon was singing a solo and he missed it, courtesy of our lovely jurisdictional squabble. In our captain's words, the feds could take their claim and stick it up...well, you know where."

Bobby grinned, "Not exactly Christian language."

"He also told us that if we were crazy enough to work on Sunday, he would pray for our souls. Or sanity. Maybe both," her expression sobered. "You okay?"

Bobby fought the irritation at her concerned tone; she cares, you idiot. "Brought back a few bad memories," he admitted.

They returned to the task at hand, supervising the scene, extrapolating theories and launching their newest whodunit.

As they ran through the rain back to the SUV, Alex scowled at her phone, "One more thing, if that bitch broke my phone, the FBI's gonna pay."

Next came the notification, an address on Central Park West. Of all the things they detested about the job, lobbing a bomb into the survivors' lives ranked high. They badged the doorman, who waved them through to a security guard seated at a mahogany and granite console.

Old for a security guard, they thought, exchanging a glance. Must be pushing seventy-five.

"Mr, uh, Faber," Bobby read the polished nameplate, and flashed his badge. "Detective Eames and I need to speak to Mrs. Richman in 1242."

The old man was taken aback, "Uh, may I tell her what this is in regards to?" He reached for the phone.

"Police business, sir," Alex said formally.

"Understood," he nodded. "Was on the job myself for 30 years." Faber frowned as he got the voice mail. "Mrs. Richman isn't answering."

"Could you just..?" Bobby waved his hand towards the elevator.

"Of course," the security guard got up from the desk and stiffly walked over to the doorman. "Hey, Pete, hold the fort a minute."

Pete ambled over, and took a seat behind the console.

"Mr. Faber, we can handle this," Alex assured him.

The doors whisked closed and they began their ascent. "Ready?" Bobby inquired.

"Um hmm," Alex replied. "Weird, though. That she didn't answer when security called up."

"Might've been busy with the kids," he theorized.

"Or hurling into the porcelain throne," she thought back to the ultrasound photo.

No response at the apartment door, either. "Bad feeling about this," Bobby muttered.

She nodded, picking up her cell and punching in the DA's office. "Yes, this is detective Eames, Major Case. We've got a potential welfare situation, pregnant woman and two small children."

She paused, signaling to Bobby.

He picked up his own phone and verified that security had not seen the woman or her children leave the building thus far today.

"No, no one has seen them leave," he held his hand over the phone. "Gonna get them to pull the vid."

"We're here for a death notification, uh huh," Alex explained. "So, do we need a warrant?"

Apparently not, as she shook her head.

Bobby immediately insisted that someone from security grant access to the apartment.

Once Faber opened the door, Goren and Eames motioned him away.

"But Mrs Richman will be upset to see strangers in her home," the wizened old guard insisted.

"We're here to make sure she and her family are safe," Alex said through clenched teeth.

Guns drawn, she and Bobby swept into the home.

Stella Richman was certainly indisposed; they found her in the kitchen, tied to a chair, gagged, her throat slit. The remnants of breakfast sat on the table next to her. Alex checked for a pulse, shook her head at her partner. For a split second, she saw the woman's swollen belly, and put her hand there, tears stinging her eyes. Sometimes she hated this job.

"Eames," Bobby's soft voice brought her around. He jerked his head towards the bedroom wing. She joined him as they cleared the master bedroom and bath, then they checked the childrens' rooms. Now his face was as ashen as hers. Both children had met the fate of their parents. The first room was done in bright blues and greens, "Tate" spelled out in large letters above a trundle bed. The little boy, who looked to be about 7, was still, his lips blue. Petechial hemorrhages indicated he'd been smothered or strangled. He was lying in his bed, covers up as if he'd just fallen asleep after a hard day of play.

In the room across the hall, pink and lavender ruled. A room fit for a princess, one named Bella. She was tiny, age three at the most, and she was dead, tucked in as her brother was. Cause of death was not overtly evident.

They went back to the apartment's foyer, mute. Faber recognized their expressions immediately.

"Need to preserve the scene," Bobby took the older man's arm and steered him out to the hall.

Alex fumbled for her phone, "Central? Yeah, this is Detective Eames, MCS. We need CSU, the ME, and a bus." She steadied her voice and added the address. "Notify chief of D's." She paused, as she half-listened to her partner on his phone to Captain Hannah.

"Joe?" Bobby was pacing back and forth. "Hey, you gotta get over here. Vic's family...they're DOA."

For the next several hours, they were back to being Goren and Eames, processing the scene. They were tight-lipped, communicating silently most of the time. No sign of forced entry. The apartment was furnished elegantly, but comfortably. It seemingly presented as the people who lived there: warm, fashionable, but with a practicality suited to a growing family. Nothing seemed particularly out of place. There were a few unwashed loads of laundry in the hampers, toys strewn in the kids' rooms. No dirty dishes in the sink or dishwasher.

The breakfast Mrs. Richman had partially consumed was not tipped over, the newspaper she'd been reading dropped by her feet. She was clad in a silk robe over pajama bottoms and oversized t shirt, barefoot. She looked for all the world like a mommy grabbing a quiet breakfast while her husband was at the office, and her children were sleeping in. Except for the gag, the ties (silk curtain cords) and the gaping gash across her throat

The children appeared to have been asleep at the time of their deaths. Rodgers said as much to the detectives as she directed her assistants.  
>"Thank God for small favors," Alex muttered, as the tiny hands were bagged.<p>

The day passed by in a blur. Crime scene photos. Witness interviews. Brass, press, and ADAs. It was four o'clock before they emerged from the apartment building, and headed to One PP. It was still raining like crazy, thunder rumbling.

Alex felt her stomach protest the countless cups of coffee she had consumed in the tiny security office, and a headache was sneaking from her shoulders and tense neck.

"Need some food," Bobby tried to brush the rain from his jacket.

"Chinese?" Alex asked absently.

"Something," he replied, and dialed his cell. "Turn on 5th, and I'll run in and get it.

On the eleventh floor, it looked like Monday morning rather than Sunday night. The phones were ringing, detectives were milling about. A war room was assembled, complete with murder board. The media room was up and running. Goren and Eames spared a moment to take care of necessities, then found an interrogation room in which to scarf some nutrition.

Alex's cell buzzed, and she glanced at the caller ID. Sighing, she picked up, "Hi, Dad. Sorry I missed...I know, it's Sunday."

Bobby mouthed, "Want me to leave?"

She shook her head vehemently, as she rolled her eyes heavenward. "We caught...yeah, that one. I know, we had to run the press gauntlet." She took a gulp of water. "Bobby grabbed us some Chinese, and we're gonna eat." She grimaced. "No, we don't. I will. I promise. Love you too." She flipped the phone off and sighed.

"Let me guess: All over the news. Any suspects? Oh, and don't stay there all night." Bobby conjectured.

"All of the above," Alex replied, a mouth full of almond chicken. She chewed, swallowed, and then looked at him regretfully. "I'm really sorry, Bobby."

"Why?" he was bewildered.

"Because we caught this case, and we weren't even up," she admitted. "I-it was an excuse...to pick you up after your appointment."

He regarded her in shock, "I could have said no. I didn't. This is what...what we do."

"I just..." she closed her eyes. "I knew it was your last session, and I was scared to death that...you wouldn't...we couldn't..."

"That if Gyson recommended I get out, that we wouldn't be working together," he finished.

"Yeah," she nodded, appalled at the tears stinging her eyes. "And no. I want...I want..."

He put a hand over hers, "I'm not going anywhere, Alex. And nothing made me happier than to see you this morning."

She curled her fingers tightly in his. "I'm glad," she smiled.

"When..when we get the hell out of here, can we t-talk about this a little more?" he liked the feel of her hand in his.

"I'd like that," Alex felt the stress of the day ease a little, replaced by the growing tenderness between them. She pulled her hand from his reluctantly, letting her fingertips trail over his wrist.

Pity that this case threatened to overwhelm everyone it touched. Bobby and Alex knew that this would consume them in the days and weeks to come. It meant hours and hours in the office, in the field, witness interviews, forensics...barely going home to sleep, shower and start all over again.

And there were two families to be notified now. Stella Richman's family lived in and around Boston, so Boston PD would handle that. Samuel Richman was from Jersey, his parents resided in Elizabeth. They drove to the west, wipers slapping at the rain.

Alex concentrated on the road, while Bobby studied his binder.

"No record for either spouse," he said aloud. "Richman has been a bank employee for, uh, 15 years. Mortgages, mostly. Wife's been homemaker for about 7 years."

"About the time their first kid was born," Alex assented.

"Before that, she was a teller in the same bank branch as her husband," he continued. "According to their financials, they have...holy shit, 30 million in investments!"

"Maybe they won the lottery," Alex said sarcastically.

As it turned out, they _**had**_ won the lottery, six years before. Ben and Madeleine Richman lived in a comfortable ranch style home, and they seemed worlds away from the high-powered existence of their son.

"He was a great kid, worked two jobs while going to college. Never gave us a bit of trouble," his father's voice broke. "After they hit the lottery, he kept working. Not for the money, but because he wanted to help people get their own homes."

"Mortgage bankers have had a tough sled the past several years. Your son make any enemies?" Alex asked.

"Oh, I'm sure there were some unhappy people," Madeleine said. "But Sam was compassionate, he worked to do right by as many people as he could. The thing about the lottery win, he gave a big chunk away. To our family, Stella's, to charities. He was so grateful that he could provide a secure future for his children..." she sobbed brokenly.

The detectives left the home, and headed back to the office.  
>"These were good people," Bobby said after a long silence.<p>

"Someone sure as hell didn't think so," Alex sighed.

Bobby's phone beeped, "Yeah, Goren." A pause, then "We'll be there in about thirty."

"Rodgers, says she's got the prelims on the posts."

They walked into the morgue as Rodgers was finishing with Stella Richman.

"Gimme a minute," she pulled off her protective gear, and waved them to the side.

Alex was struck by the two small specimens in a wide tray next to Mrs Richman.

Rodgers followed her gaze, "Boy and girl, about 20 weeks. No trauma to the abdomen, fetuses looked healthy."  
>"Except for their dead mother," Alex said bitterly.<p>

"COD was exsanguination, due to a severed jugular. Perp used a scalpel to puncture here," she indicated a spot on the left side of the throat.

"What about the slash, then?" Bobby inquired, looking closely.

"For show, postmortem, I guess," she rubbed her hand across her brow. "No defensive wounds, so I'm guessing she knew her assailant. No sexual assault, either."

Alex turned her head from the two fetuses, and swallowed bile, "And the rest of the family?"

"Samuel Richman bought it from what looks to be a 45, head and groin. Ballistics is thinking a silencer, from the looks of the slugs," the ME continued. She moved to the next room, where the childrens' bodies lay. "Tate Richman was smothered, again no defensive wounds. Was probably asleep, perp used a pillow from the bed. Isabella Richmond was..." Rodgers stumbled over the words. "Her neck was snapped. She looked to have been asleep as well."

"Time of death?" Bobby asked.

"0945 for the husband," she answered. "Gotta love surveillance cameras. Between 0800 and 0900, for the wife and kids."

They murmured their thanks and headed back upstairs. The din in the office had lessened considerably, and Bobby and Alex dug in for the long haul.

With the exception of a few hours of tortured sleep in the crib, they burned through the rest of Sunday and well into Monday, fueled by adrenalin and righteous anger.

At ten o'clock Monday night, Hannah stopped by the conference room where Alex was tapping data into her laptop, while Bobby was sorting through video surveillance. An empty pizza box and discarded coffee cups were piled on a chair. Bobby's shirt was half-unbuttoned, tie and jacket gone, and a full shadow of beard covered his face. Alex was pale, the lines around her mouth pinched. Dark circles adorned both their eyes.

"Hey, you two, time to call it a night," their captain requested.

The detectives exchanged a glance.

"Cut the super-cop bullshit, neither one of you can keep up this pace. Go home, get eight hours, and start fresh tomorrow," he ordered.

Resigned, they left, hoping to leave the horror of the last few days behind for a little while. In the elevator to the parking garage, they said little. Alex dropped Bobby at the MTA, then drove on to Forest Hills.

She walked into her apartment, feeling like it was ten years since she left Sunday morning. She stood under the shower spray, trying to wash away the images in her brain of the Richman family. Her jaw clenched, her inability to cry physically painful. Like a robot, she went through her nightly routine, setting the coffee maker, checking her messages, rifling through her mail. She poured a large glass of wine, downing it in a few gulps. Alex crawled into bed, still unable to relax. She looked at the phone, and then picked it up. She lay in the dark, hoping she hadn't wakened Bobby.

He picked up on the first ring, "I knew it was you."

"Can't seem to shut my brain up," she admitted ruefully.

"Me either," he sighed.

She heard the hiss of a lighter and could almost smell the menthol and tobacco, "Bobby..."

"I know, I know," he groaned.

"No, that's not it," she rolled onto her side. "If I smoked, I'd be lighting up right now, too."

"Then what?" he leaned back on his couch, taking a gulp of scotch.

"I wanted to talk about yesterday, before the day got napalmed," she said softly.

"Alex, you really want to do this on the phone?" he inquired. "Because I'd rather do it in person."

"Me, too," she confessed. "But I just wanted to...were you really glad to see me yesterday?"

"I was," he said. "In fact, I-uh, wanted to talk about how glad I was. How...um, important you are to me."

Alex felt a warmth spreading through her, "Bobby, these past couple months...I think I've been happier than...been in a long time."

"Me, too," he said huskily. "And it's not...just the job. It's because I have..you in my life."

"You never lost me," she whispered.

"I want us, aw, shit, how do I say this? My shrink...we talk about whether it's possible for me to have a normal life," he stammered. "W-with someone."  
>"You think that's what you want," she smiled in the dark, hope spreading through her.<p>

"I'd like to try," his voice was more certain. "With you."

She felt her breath rush from her lungs.

"Uh, Alex, are you there?" he felt panicky.

"Oh, I'm here," she chuckled.

"Well?" his voice rose anxiously.

"I'd like that very, very much," she assured him.

"Um, well, uh, glad we got that cleared up," he stammered. "See you in the morning?"

"Bobby Goren, you're just going to leave it at that?" she teased.

"Look, I'm not..._**not**_ asking you over the phone," he insisted.

"Wouldn't bother me," she grinned. "It's not like we don't know each other."

"We're gonna do this right," Bobby growled softly.

"Like the growl thing, it's kind of sexy," Alex said archly.

"Alex!" he chuckled.

"In the interest of full disclosure," she deadpanned. "Sweet dreams, Bobby. Or naughty ones. I won't be offended."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you starred in one of my, um, naughty dreams," he teased. "Night." he hung up.

Alex looked at the phone, then laid it on the nightstand. "Very funny, Goren."

Whether it was the alcohol, the total exhaustion, or the scintillating bedtime chat, detectives Goren and Eames slept reasonably well.

Tuesday morning began badly. There were no obvious suspects emerging in the Richman case, the press was in a feeding frenzy, and everyone from the brass to the DA's office was demanding answers.

The autopsy and crime scene photos were spread over the conference room table, while they tried to see a connection of any kind. The afternoon began with interviews with the families, who were arriving in the city for funeral arrangements.

Alex stepped out of one of the interrogation rooms and went back to her desk. "Anything from yours?" she asked Bobby.

"No, not a thing," he scrubbed his face with his hand. "You?"

"They were the perfect little family, everyone loved them...blah, blah," she sighed. "I'm going to the little girls room and find some sugar. Want anything?"

He rose to go back to the war room, "Surprise me. I'm gonna look at the household staff again. They have a maid who's MIA, and there a couple maintenance guys from the building we haven't been able to touch base with."

Bobby was trying to get contact info on the maid, when a cell phone buzzed. He picked it up, "Goren."

The caller's tone was a little surprised, "Bobby? Where's Alex?"

Bobby held the phone away from his ear, realizing he had picked up his partner's phone. Liz cell, the caller ID read. "Aw, sorry, Liz," he apologized to his partner's sister. "She's out for a break. Picked her phone up by mistake."

"That's okay, I was just checking in. Dad told me you guys caught the Richman case," Liz sounded sympathetic.

"Yeah, we did. Can I give her a message? She ought to be back in a minute," Bobby replied.

"I was just going to ask her if she wanted to come over for dinner tonight," Liz said.

"I'll let her know that, Liz, but considering how our day is going..." Bobby hesitated.

"Hey, I may not be a cop but I grew up in a family of them," she acknowledged. "And you're welcome to come for dinner, too."  
>"That's nice of you, thanks," he said. "Um, I actually...there is something you could do for your sister."<p>

"Sure," Liz was a little surprised.

"If you could bring Nate by, I think that would make her day," Bobby requested.

"He should be getting back from day camp in about a half hour," she said.

"Thanks a lot," he was very appreciative. "This case...it's a bitch."

"Sounds like it," Alex's sister agreed. "We'll get there as soon as we can."

Bobby hung up and went back to the task at hand. He looked up when his partner came back into the room. "Oh-oh."

"Damn right," Alex fumed, putting a cup of coffee in front of him, and then proceeded to rip open packets of sugar and dump them into her own cup.

"Vending machine out of Skittles, " he sighed. "Your sister called."

"Eames family grapevine alive and well," she groaned.

"Gonna call her back?" Bobby asked.

"No, she'll just want to ask me to dinner or something," she said darkly, "Like I'd have time." She flipped open her laptop.

An hour later, Detective Daniels stuck his head in the conference room, "Hey, Eames, you got a couple visitors."

Alex looked up in surprise, "Be back in a minute."

Bobby stood in the doorway as she crossed the bullpen, relishing the joy on her face at the sight of her nephew.

"Aunt Alex, we brought you a surprise!" the seven year old practically shouted, catapulting himself into her arms.

"Nate, manners," his mother admonished gently.

Alex sat in her desk chair, pulled the little boy into her lap, and hugged him close. She rubbed her cheek into his soft strawberry blond hair, not sure if she could trust herself to speak.

Liz felt her heart break a little, seeing her sister's face, "Like your surprise?"

"Love it," Alex answered gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me, thank your partner," her little sister smirked.

Alex turned and looked across the bullpen. She beckoned him over, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I, um, picked up your phone by mistake," he said sheepishly.

"Hey, you didn't get your surprise yet," Nate tugged at his mom. "Bobby, we brought one for you, too!"

Liz handed them two small boxes, warning them, "He picked them out himself."

Nate bounced on Alex's lap, "It's cupcakes!" he announced.

"Skittles cupcakes!" Alex kissed all over the little boy's face. "My favorite-ist!"

"Nate, buddy, you may have saved many lives today," Bobby grinned, opening his own treat.

Liz smiled, "We know you're working, we just thought you'd enjoy the sugar fix. Nate, tell Bobby and Alex bye."

"Aw, man," Nate sighed, sliding off his aunt's lap.

Bobby knelt to the little boy's level, "Thanks for bringing us cupcakes, Nate." He touched the boy's nose, wiggled his fingers, then pulled a quarter from behind Nate's ear.

"Mommy, look!" his brown eyes were like saucers.

Alex walked Liz and Nate to the elevator, then returned to the conference room where Bobby had gone back to work.  
>"Pretty classy move, Goren," she kicked the door shut.<p>

"I can rise to the occasion," he smirked.

She leaned over the edge of the table, not caring that they were at work. She whispered, "That was the sweetest thing you have ever done, and exactly what I needed today." She leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

_**Boy, this chapter ended up way darker and longer than I expected. Less dark and more fun the next chapter, I promise. If you review, that is.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Many kind words, and many people adding this as a favorite story. This chapter starts out dark, but gets better. I found myself wondering about the scenes we don't see-how do they deal with an emotionally devastating case in their off-hours. As promised, this installment will be a bit more fun, a bit of therapy, family. Keep those reviews coming. If you want to see it, you must review it. Okay, that doesn't rhyme, but...on with the show. I don't own them, but I am sure having fun with them.**_

The Best Street In Brooklyn

"So, what gave you the idea?" Alex popped the last bite of cupcake in her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss.

Bobby was still a little befuddled from her kiss, "I just thought it'd be nice to see a live little boy, instead of one on a slab." he blurted.

"Well, you're right," she said after a beat. "It was."

They worked until midnight Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The surveillance video from outside the bank revealed the probable shooter was a jogger, but it was difficult to get any sort of ID. The angle that was the best bet to capture the shooter's face was scrambled video, either as a result of a power surge, or a deliberate sabotage. The jogger appeared to be double-dressed, making a gender or age indeterminate, in shoes that altered height.

Interviews with the deceased's coworkers yielded no new information. The neighbors in their building denied seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary. Security video from the building was mostly in the public areas, with "dead zones" in the hallways and stairwells. With the number of tenants in the building, and the number of maids, nannies, and household staff, there were so many potential gaps in security. As more family members trickled into the city, they widened the circle of interrogation.

Toxicology was negative on all the victims. The crime scene netted some unidentified fingerprints and DNA, but the hits weren't in the system. They had located all but one of the maintenance staff, and eliminated them as sources of DNA or fingerprints, and they had bulletproof alibis. The remaining building employee and the family housekeeper were allegedly out of the country on vacation at the time of the murders, and not expected back for a couple weeks. The family finances were pristine.

Through it all, Bobby and Alex supported each other. They took turns making sure the other got food and fluids. While Alex would jog during her lunch break, Bobby would hit the treadmill in his apartment in the early morning. Coffee, yogurt, fruit, or skittles would appear on her desk.

Bobby was the recipient of coffee, water, nicotine gum, chips or his favorite pastrami sandwich. They'd order dinner; Chinese one night, Italian another. It was no different than they had ever done, but Captain Hannah, still new to Major Case and the "dynamic duo," took notice.

Sharon Hannah insisted that her husband at least attempt to get home for dinner once that week, "C'mon, something healthy, a little peace and quiet, maybe a massage," she told him over the phone Thursday afternoon.

He grumpily acquiesced, "I know you're right, honey. But this goddamned case..."

"...may take a while to break, Joe," she finished for him. "I don't want you to put yourself into an early grave over it."

"More worried about my detectives beating me to that," he muttered after he hung up.

In bed with Sharon that night, he let her rub his stiff shoulders. Joe had talked to all three of their children that evening, and watched their new grandson get a bath via Skype.

"Isn't Grant the cutest little ol' thing?" Sharon skillfully kneaded her husband's back.

"He sure is," Joe agreed. "Hate like hell that they live in Dallas."

"They'll be home for a bit in August, Joe. And through the wonders of cyberspace, we can see him and talk to him," she pressed a kiss onto his neck.

"Would rather hold him right now," his voice was muffled into his forearm.

"I know," Sharon sighed. "That poor family; well, both families."

"Kickin' everyone's ass," he rolled over and held his wife close.

"Bobby and his partner, um Alex?" she inquired.

"They have been killing themselves, trying to clear this case," Joe told her. "Only time I saw them even remotely take a break was when Eames' sister brought her nephew this week."

"Really?" Sharon was interested.

"Bobby told me later that Alex was a surrogate for the sister, so I guess this is the closest thing she has to one of her own," he explained.

"How old is the little boy?" she asked.

"Looked to be about seven, his name is Nathan, Nate, something like that," Joe replied.

"Same age as..." she paused.

"Yeah, same as the little boy that was killed," Joe assented.

"Heartbreak all around," she murmured, snuggling into him.

Friday night the wake was held for the Richman family. Bobby and Alex were dressed unobtrusively, hoping that they could find a person of interest among the mourners. Plus, sometimes hearing unguarded conversations was easier than at the actual funeral. They were amazed at the sheer number of people coming to pay their respects. Surely some of them were strictly gawkers, or nosy reporters, but the overall feeling was of genuine grief and loss.

Thanks to some skillful mortician esthetics, the visitation was open casket. Alex was in the back of the funeral parlor, uncomfortable with the little children seeing their aunt, uncle and cousins laid out. She flashed back to her husband's funeral, and that of Kevin Quinn. Just an elaborate way of preserving the illusion that death didn't leave a mark.

Bobby was off to the side, quietly talking with Stella Richman's parents. Her mother was fingering her rosary, wiping tears from her eyes. Her father sat, stoic. Grief made him look twenty years older.

Candles burned, the warm smell of melting wax meant to comfort. There was the thick, cloying scent of too many flowers in one space. She turned her attention to the pictures and memorabilia in the vestibule. Happy pictures, and video clips playing of the family. Family, friends, even their household help. Alex wondered again at the housekeeper. Sure, people went on vacation, but everyone had internet access. She'd been employed by the family for three or four years, why hadn't she called or emailed or...?

Alex thought of the two tiniest victims, the ones not visible in the casket. Twenty weeks. She remembered that was when she was feeling the best during her pregnancy with Nate. The nausea and fatigue were gone, and she was still working full time. She reveled in the little flutters and kicks; in fact, that was the week she found out she was carrying a boy.

She shook her head, moved to the room off to the side. Food and snacks were spread out, for those who needed sustenance. She poured a cup of over-boiled coffee and dumped sugar and creamer in to make it more palatable. God, any more of this and they could embalm _**her**_.

Bobby appeared in the doorway, "I don't think we'll find anything more here tonight."

"No, me either," Alex said wearily.

He came over and put a hand on her shoulder, "You okay? Want to go somewhere and talk?"

"I'm fine, just tired," she sighed.

"Long week," he agreed.

"And we have to do this all over again tomorrow," she lowered her voice as some of the family came into the room. "At least they're making the service private."

The funeral Saturday afternoon revealed nothing new in the way of suspects or information. As had become custom, the family hosted a meal before they departed for the cemetery. Bobby and Alex made their way from the parish hall back to the sanctuary.

As they approached the altar, they observed the priest and and the mortician in front of Stella's casket, carefully tucking two small bundles, one pink and one blue, in the crook of her lifeless arms. Alex gasped, and ran from the sanctuary, desperately seeking the nearest bathroom.

Bobby was at her heels, holding her hair as she vomited into the sink. After she finished retching, he dampened some paper towels and wiped her face. "We're done here, Alex," he whispered.

"B-but.." she stammered.

"There is _**nothing**_ to be gained by staying," his face was stricken as he pulled her into his chest. "If the brass feels like there is, then they can give this to someone else."

"I know," her voice was raw, muffled.

"Give me the keys," Bobby said gently.

She handed them to him willingly, and allowed his arm around her as they walked into the sweltering afternoon.

He took the wheel of their department-issued SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. They didn't say anything to each other as he headed east on the parkway.

Alex's cell phone beeped, and she scowled at the caller ID, "Hi, sis."

"I was just calling to let you know the dinner invite still stands," Liz's voice was cheerful.

"That's sweet of you, but..." she took a steadying breath. "Been a really bad day."

Bobby looked questioningly at her.

"Dinner," she mouthed silently.

He nodded, "Let's go," he mouthed back.

She shook her head, ignoring her sister's voice. "Alex, are you still there?"

"I'm talking to Bobby," Alex said.

"He's invited, too," Liz was adamant.

Bobby snitched the phone from her hand, "Can we bring anything?"

"Just yourselves," Liz hung up.

Alex scowled at him, feeling outvoted.

"C'mon, a nice dinner with a nice normal family and no work talk," he wheedled as he headed for Far Rockaway.

They arrived to Liz and her husband Eric trying to corral a rambunctious Nate. "But I don't wanna take a bath," the little boy howled.

Eric groaned in mock dismay, "Then you won't get to stay up and have dinner with Aunt Alex and Uncle Bobby."

"Noooo!" Nate wailed.

"Oh, don't do that to the poor kid," Alex scolded, grabbing the sweaty, grubby ball of energy. "We don't mind if he's a little stinky."

"I'm not stinky!" Nate protested.

"We've been to the splash pad all afternoon and someone is very t-i-r-e-d," Liz explained.

"I'm not t-i-r-e-d!" the little boy complained, then promptly yawned.

"Tell you what, Nate," Bobby scooped him from Alex's arms, "If you get scrubbed up, I'll show you how another magic trick."

"Really?" he wriggled free and took off for the upstairs bathroom. "C'mon, I'll show you these neat colors that turn into soap!"

"Do you mind?" Alex asked Liz and Eric.

"Hell, no," Eric laughed. "Have fun."

Alex stripped off her blazer and kicked off her shoes, while Bobby slipped off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves. "Watch out for him, he loves to throw water," she warned as they entered the bathroom.

For the next half hour, they enjoyed watching Nate splash and giggle, admiring the lovely artwork he made on the shower wall with the soap crayons. They dodged some of his more enthusiastic attempts to drown them in soapy water. While Alex dried Nate off with a fluffy towel, and dressed him in pajamas, Bobby entertained him with some sleight of hand tricks.

The sun slid down in the sky as they headed downstairs.

Liz stood at the stove, stirring a luscious smelling red sauce. "It's going to be a little bit before it's ready," she apologized and waved a hand towards the patio, "There's a pitcher of Bellini and antipasti out back."

"Aren't we stylin'?" Eric, fresh from his own shower, tousled his wife's hair.

"Pay him no mind, his idea of fun is beer and pork rinds," Liz laughed.

"Hey, I appreciate a great meal," Eric told Bobby and Alex. "And I have to say, this cooking class stuff she's doing...I need to hit the gym twice as hard."

Nate turned up his nose, "Yeah, but you said the cheese made the house stinky, Daddy."  
>"Sounds like there's a story there," Bobby's eyes twinkled.<p>

"Come out back and we'll talk," Eric clamped a hand on his shoulder.

Eric, Bobby and Nate headed to the yard, while Alex offered to help her sister, "Let me do _**something**_."

"Go pour us some of those drinks, and then you can cook the pasta," Liz requested.

Alex returned with the cocktails, lingering a moment to watch her partner, her brother-in-law, and her nephew in the backyard. Eric was showing off his latest landscaping project, and Nate was perched on Bobby's shoulders. The events of earlier in the day faded a little from her consciousness.

"Thanks for inviting us, sissy," Alex was stirring the pasta into boiling water.

"Anytime," Liz took a taste of the sauce and wrinkled her nose. "Needs a little more basil." She tossed the herb into the pot, stirred it, and replaced the lid. "So, how's it going?"

Alex took a large gulp of her drink, silent. Oh, just lovely, we watched an entire family go into the ground for no good reason today. Two little babies who didn't get to even draw breath put in their dead mother's arms, she thought. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to slam the door on that image.

Liz caught the expression on her sister's face, and came over to hug her, "Sorry, that had to be the most idiotic question of the decade."

"Just about," Alex sniffed. "I-uh-really don't want to talk about it."

"Can't imagine how you do it, every day, Lex," her sister sighed.

They were interrupted by the guys coming back in. "Hey if you girls don't quit gabbing, we'll have the food eaten up." Eric teased.

"All right, all right," Liz laughed, then cast a stern glance at Bobby. "You didn't let my kid get dirty, did you?"  
>"Oh, he wasn't supposed to roll in the sandbox? Damn!" Bobby grinned.<p>

"That's a bad word, Bobby," Nate said disapprovingly.

"He's heard worse, that's for sure," Eric laughed.  
>"Mom, do I<em><strong> have <strong>_to eat the stinky food out there?" the little boy whined.

"I'm mortally wounded, son," Liz said in mock dismay. "What would you rather have?"  
>"S'mores," Nate gave his most winning smile.<p>

"How about my best peanut butter and banana sandwich, buddy?" Eric scooped his son to a seat on the counter.

"With chocolate chips?" he asked hopefully.

"Just don't tell your mom," Eric said in a stage whisper.

"I am outnumbered," Liz sighed dramatically. While her husband fixed Nate's favorite sandwich, she shooed her sister and partner out back, "I'm just going to throw this together, we'll be out in a sec."

Bobby and Alex took a seat in the wicker porch swing, sinking gratefully into the cushions, and refilling their glasses from the frosty glass pitcher.  
>"Mmm, tastes like summer," she savored the peachy cocktail.<p>

"You'd better eat a little something," he smiled, smearing ricotta on baguette slice, and drizzling it with honey. "That" he indicated the drink, "Really packs a wallop on an empty stomach."

She gave him a lopsided grin, "Some guys wouldn't mind a tipsy dinner date."

"Date? Oh, no, this is not considered a date," he lifted the bread to her mouth. "this is dinner with family. When we go on a date...you'll _**know**_ it."

"Really?" she let out a delighted giggle. "_**When**_...we go on a date, not if."

"Eat, Alex," he insisted.

"Make me," her eyes twinkled.

"If that's what you want," he put the appetizer to her lips.

Alex took a bite, then snaked out her tongue to slurp a drop of honey from his fingertip.

"We're..uh, in your sister's backyard," he murmured. God, she made eating a piece of bread sexy.

"I know," she smirked, reaching for an olive.

They startled as the patio door slid open, and the McClain family emerged.

Busted, Eric thought, watching his sister in law and her partner. Bobby's arm was around Alex and their faces were both flushed.

Nate jumped onto Alex's lap, "Are you eating the stinky cheese?"

"It's not stinky, it's very good," she laughed.

"Why, thank you, I made it myself," Liz said proudly.

"You made homemade ricotta?" Bobby was incredulous as he ate some with olive oil and basil on bread. "I haven't had the likes of this...my grandmother used to make it all the time." He took another bite, "You nailed it, Liz."

"My girlfriends and I are doing a cooking course while our kids are at day camp," Liz explained modestly.

Eric gingerly scooped some onto an artichoke heart, "You got it right this time, sweetheart."

"After five tries, I should hope so," she parked herself next to him on the loveseat and fixed a small plate.

"It was _**soooo**_ stinky," Nate wrinkled his nose.

"Try some," Bobby tried to convince the little boy.

"Nuh-uh," Nate rubbed at his eyes.

The adults exchanged amused glances. The young prince was about to run out of steam.

Within ten minutes, he was asleep, wedged between Bobby and Alex on the swing.

Eric made to pick up his sleeping son, and Liz shook her head, "Honey, let them put him down while we put dinner on."

Alex lifted the slumbering child to her shoulder, Bobby following in her wake.

"He sleeps on the top bunk," she whispered.

Bobby pulled the comforter and sheet back, plumped up the pillow. He then took the child from her and laid him down carefully. Alex pulled up his covers and turned on his nightlight.

They stood side by side, Alex stroking Nate's hair gently, "He's growing so fast," she whispered.

"Seems like a minute ago he was a baby," Bobby tucked the covers more securely around him.

Alex's hand faltered, and she began to shake.

"Come on, let's let him sleep," he steered her into the hallway and closed the door. They reached the bottom of the stairs before her knees buckled.

Bobby carried her into the darkened living room, taking a seat on the couch.

"'s' all right," he tucked her head into his shoulder as she sobbed into his chest.

"It-I was just so shocked," her words were raw. "And I remembered how-how I felt when I saw her-and she was dead..." The dam of emotion broke and she wept and wept. "Those... poor...babies," she groaned.

"I know," he muttered brokenly. "It's too much, some days."

"I hope that he didn't wake back up," Liz put the last dish on the table.

Eric popped the cork on the wine, "I thought I heard them come downstairs, I'll check."

As he walked past the living room, he was shocked at what he saw. The partners were clinging to each other, sobbing. He returned to the kitchen and shook his head, "Liz, they're..."

"What?" she was puzzled at his expression.

"Maybe better leave them alone," Eric was sheepish, as if he'd trespassed on an intimate moment.

"Making out in my house?" Liz hissed.

"No, no," Eric came over to her. "They're...crying."

"Jesus," she snuggled in her husband's arms. "Sweetheart, we are sooo lucky."

"I know," he kissed her tenderly. Eric and Liz took their plates to the patio, giving Alex and Bobby some privacy.

It was an hour before they finally emerged from the living room, and sought out their hosts. "We're really sorry, guys," Alex sniffled. Her makeup was gone, save for a few streaks of mascara at the corners of her eyes. Bobby's eyes were red and puffy, he seemed older even in that short space of time..

Liz got to her feet and hugged her sister, "Don't you dare apologize!" she exclaimed softly. "We...we just want you to be okay...to help. That's what families are for." She looked at Bobby, "And, yes, you're family, too."

Eric regarded Bobby and Alex with a new respect, "I can't even pretend to imagine how you do what you do every day."

Bobby was solemn, "We do it because someone has to."

Alex managed a grim laugh, "Kinda crass, but do you have a little dinner to spare?"

"Sit yourselves down, McClain's restaurant is open for business," Eric said with a flourish.

Between the food and a great quantity of wine, Saturday night turned into Sunday morning. Through dinner, dessert, and beyond, the conversation was light. Bobby even spoke about his early childhood, the memories he had of his maternal grandparents, and times spent with them. Alex was fascinated, and took in every word. So much of his life had been plagued by his dysfunctional family, it was good to know that there were at least _**some**_ happy memories.

As the hour crawled towards two, they know the evening had to end. Considering how intoxicated they were, driving was out of the question.

"Bobby, we have a very nice guest room and bath," Liz offered.

"That's kind of you, but I-uh, I'd be fine on your couch," he stammered. "Let Alex have the guest bed."

"Are you kiddin'? Alex grinned sleepily. "I'll just crawl into Nate's bottom bunk, I do it all the time."

"I have that, um, appointment in the morning," Bobby reminded her.

"We can see that she gets home," Eric assured them.

Bobby undressed in the guest room, and made sure his phone alarm was set for nine AM. He crawled under fresh, line-dried sheets, and tried to settle down. This is what it's like, he thought as his eyes closed. This is what it's like to have a home, a family. People to love and care for each other. No drama or strife.

Alex. He punched at his pillow, remembering how she had crumbled earlier. So much of the face she showed the world every day was stoic, sarcastic, snarky. But underneath...beat the heart of a tender, caring woman. He had seen a great deal more of the inner Alex Eames the past few months, and sometimes that scared him. One of the things his sessions with Dr Gyson forced to him to admit, was that this small, strong, fierce woman was vital to his existence. Did he love her? Damn straight. And not like a sister. Exhaustion finally won out, and he drifted off to sleep.

Down the hall, Alex quietly got into the bottom bunk, not wanting to wake Nate. Tired as she was, her mind wouldn't calm. When had she gotten a real night's sleep? One not plagued by nightmares and images of dead children? Had it really just been a week? She dragged an arm across her face. Her thoughts turned to the little boy sleeping in the bunk above her. He'd grown under her heart for the better part of a year. When she and Bobby were tucking Nate in earlier, all those memories came flooding back. Bobby had treated her with the utmost care, tenderness. She remembered how it felt to hear his heart beating, his arms protecting her, comforting her. He had cried, too. She was afraid he wouldn't go to therapy in the morning, but the fact that he made a point of mentioning it...She thought about Stella Richman. Tears rolled down her cheeks, maybe Bobby wasn't the only one in their partnership who needed therapy. Spent, she finally let her eyes close.

Liz and Eric were in the kitchen, making omelets for breakfast. Coffee was brewing, the island was set with five plates.

Bobby, unshaven but freshly showered, stopped to thank them, "Good morning."

Eric poured him a cup of coffee, "You look like you could use this."

"Thanks," he took a grateful swallow.

"Did you need sugar or cream?" Liz pushed both over to him.

"No, that'd be your sister," he laughed. "Is she...?"

"She's still asleep," Eric said, adding, "So is Nate, you guys wore him out."

"I-uh-appreciate what you did for us yesterday," Bobby finished his coffee. "It was...what we needed..." He flashed a grin. "Owe you dinner."

"We were glad to have you," Eric shook his hand. "Don't be a stranger."

Bobby touched Liz's shoulder, and said, "I gotta go, but tell Alex...I'll call her later."

Dr Gyson noticed how subdued her patient was almost immediately, "Tell me about your week."

"You follow the news?" Bobby was restless, pacing the office.

"Yes," she answered. He was unshaven, hair a bit rumpled. Maybe hung over?

"So then you know," he poured a glass of water, gulped it down. "Pisser of a case."

"You need to sit," she directed him.

He did, but fidgeted, picking up and putting down his glass, a paperweight, a coaster.

"Do you have children?" he asked after a long silence.

She was taken aback, "Um, yes, I do."

"Must be hard to hear some of the stuff you do," Bobby ruminated.

"It can be difficult," the doctor was cautious. "But I'm not sure..."  
>"This...family. Without getting into specifics, they were...it's one of the worst cases. My partner...I can't imagine what it's like for a woman who's had a child, to see what we saw..." his eyes were haunted.<p>

Dr Gyson was confused, "Your partner is a widow, I didn't know she had children."

"She, uh, was a surrogate for her sister and brother-in-law," he explained.

"How old is the child?" she asked.

"Nate be eight November 15th," he answered. "Same age as one of our victims."

"Hit her pretty hard," the doctor commented. "And _**you**_. Do you have a relationship with her so-, with her nephew?"

He looked at her in puzzlement, "Alex was pregnant during our partnership, and we're friends. Liz and Eric...they've always been generous in letting her see him. But why does that matter?"

"I just find it interesting that you know this child's birthday," Gyson commented.

Bobby scowled, "Is that relevant?"

"You're defensive, and I'm guessing angry right now," she countered.  
>"Damn right, a whole family slaughtered, no real leads so far, and the media thinks it's a goddamned media event," Bobby raged.<p>

"You brought up your partner," Dr Guyson redirected him.

"I'm worried about her, okay?" he admitted.

"Your feelings for her run deep," she hammered.

"Are we back to that?" Bobby groaned. "Look, I am entitled to be concerned for her, and she for me. We're _**partners**_. It's the code of the PD."

"Then what would you like to talk about?" the doctor sighed.

"Years ago, my maternal grandfather had this little club, had a pool, golf course...It was a nice place. Well, for a kid of four or five, it seemed magical. And we'd have these big Sunday night suppers, lots of food, aunts and uncles, cousins." Bobby smiled. "My parents...they...they were, it-it-it was what passed for normal, at that time. My Nonna Lia, aw, she was great. She made the best antipasti trays, and homemade ricotta."

"Sounds nice," the therapist said.

"Memories are funny," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, all the lying and cheating, alcohol, gambling, abuse, emotional illness...just trying to survive. Those are my most vivid memories. Then I have this food, and it brings me back to what was a happy time in my life."

"Were you in a particular restaurant or place that reminded you...?" Gyson wondered.

"It was at my partner's sister's house, okay? We had dinner with her family, and Liz made homemade ricotta and had an antipasti tray. She's been talking some cooking class, and wanted to fix us a meal," Bobby got up to pace again, "It...brought me back to the normal life thing."  
>"Did it make you...did you see yourself in that situation?" she probed.<p>

He shook his head vehemently, "I wasn't thinking that, I was thinking that for the first time this week we spent time with a nice, kind, normal family. There were no dead bodies, not talk of suspects or crime scenes. We didn't get a call out. There was good conversation, time to play with a thoroughly alive child, tuck him into bed, and then have dinner and a few drinks."

"You enjoyed your evening," she stated.

"Yeah, and I'd like more of it," he sat back down. "Once we break this goddamned case."

"I know you must be under tremendous pressure to get justice for this family, Dr Gyson began. "But I'm wondering if you could find a way this week to do some of those 'normal life' things. You know, a drink with your high school buddy, or a take a lunch break with your partner in a park, go see a little league game."

Bobby laughed, "Maybe you could send a memo to the brass, saying, "please excuse Detective Goren from crime solving so he can go on a picnic with his partner."

"Robert Goren needs frequent breaks to maintain his emotional health and keep him an effective law enforcement officer," she countered, as she escorted him to the door.

"Same time next Sunday?" he asked. "Oh, that's right, holiday weekend."

"Going out of town with my family," she smiled. "In two weeks, then?"

He nodded, and said, "I'll try to remember about the normal life thing."

Alex woke with a killer headache, and Nate bouncing on bed above her, "Are you awake yet, Aunt Alex?" he shouted.

"No, I'm dead," she groaned, afraid to open her eyes wider than slits.

"Dead people don't talk," he hung his head over the edge of the bed. "You told me that."

"Of course I did," she sighed. "Nate, my head really hurts, so could you...be a little quieter?"  
>His mouth formed a silent O. "All right," he clattered down the ladder and ran into the hall, he'd barely cleared the door, before yelling, "Hey, Mom, Aunt Alex has a headache! Do you have any Advil?"<p>

She pulled the pillow over her head, and willed her stomach to behave.

In a few minutes, Liz was waving a cup of coffee under her nose, singsonging, "You can have this if you sit up and open your peepers, sissy."  
>"Why didn't I kill you when I had the chance?" Alex mumbled.<p>

"Now, now! Remember when you'd sneak in after a few brewskis with Nick, and then have to get up early. And how your dear baby sister had coffee with lots of sugar all ready for you so you wouldn't get busted?" Liz said.

Alex sat up gingerly, holding her hand out for the life-giving brown elixir, "Oh, thanks."

She took a large drink, along with the proffered ibuprofen.

"Bobby said to tell you he'll call you later," Liz sipped on her own cup of joe.

"Good," Alex sighed in relief. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Eleven thirty," Liz informed her. "We have an omelet downstairs with your name on it."

She shuddered, "No offense, but eggs right now...no. A shower, toothbrush, maybe I could swipe a few clothes?"

"Sure, Alex," Liz pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Take all the time you need."

She wandered down the hall to the guest bath, and dove under the shower spray. She felt herself gradually returning to normal. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed blindly for a towel. It was vaguely damp, and smelled of Bobby. She pressed her face into it, remembering their little tete a tete last night. "When we're on a date, you'll know it."

"I'd like to know it right now," she muttered, tossing the towel into the hamper. Christ, Alex, you're like a damn teenager.

Liz took Alex over to their dad's place for their usual weekend cleanup and meal prep. Nate kept his grandfather entertained with stories of his mommy's stinky cheese, and how Bobby had taught him a new magic trick.

Johnny Eames raised an eyebrow, "Bobby been around this week?"

"Oh, yeah, he and Aunt Alex came over for supper and they stayed all night!" Bobby had to leave 'fore I got up, but Aunt Alex stayed in my room!"  
>"Is that so?" Johnny said.<p>

"Uh, huh! She had a bad headache when she got up, so I had to be _**really**_ quiet," Nate whispered.

Johnny shook his head, "Nice to have someone who can tell me what's goin' on."

Just then, Alex's phone rang. "It's Bobby!" Nate announced, reading the caller ID.

"Gimme that," Alex grabbed the phone, then headed out to the front stoop.

"Hey, how did it go?" she asked.

"Aw, pretty good," he replied. "How are you feeling?After last night..."

"Better. Now if you'd asked me that about two hours ago...no so much," she chuckled ruefully. "How did you sleep?"

"You mean with all the vino swimming in my veins? Not bad," he replied. "You at your dad's?"

"Um-hmm, doing the weekly dump the ashtrays, make sure the place is respectable, with food to get him by. Nate is busy playing informant," Alex took a drink of soda. "What do you have planned for the day?"

"Lewis needs help with an old F85 that he's restoring. Thought I'd help out with that," he mused.

"You going to the office?" she asked with trepidation.

"No," he said decisively, "I talked to Joe this morning and he said we are to take the rest of the weekend."

"Great," Alex sighed in relief. "Bobby, thanks for last night."  
>"Hey, I never turn down free food or booze," he chuckled.<p>

"You know what I mean," she said reproachfully. "It meant a lot to have...your comfort."

"My heart hurt for you, Alex...I can't imagine...As for being there, you've been there for me, many times, some when I didn't deserve it," he was serious. "Just know that...I have your back, always."

"And I have yours," she said tenderly.

_**Sigh. I need to get past this dark, angsty business and let these people have some fun. Okay, next chapter, I promise. The poor Richman family will have their case solved, but our next chapter will be devoted to... some family meddling, which leads to some more fun...and then, hmmm, I think a...birthday cake, fireworks, and an actual...wait for it...a date! Keep all those reviews coming.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**My, oh my! Busy week, so slow in updating. Let's see, when we last were with our dear detectives, they were ready to take a much needed break from this horrid murder. Alex was hanging with her fam, and Bobby was heading over to help Lewis with a car. Male bonding at its best. And? Oh, yes, time for a little more flirting, Eames family meddling, a birthday and what else? Oh, yeah, their first date! Because y'all have waited patiently, this is a super-sized chapter. I am just borrowing them, I own nothing. Review and ye shall be rewarded :)**_

"How the hell did you get a hold of this?" Bobby dubiously regarded the pile of auto parts, body panels, and the frame of an F85.

"Got a great deal on it, man!" Lewis was enthusiastic.

Bobby poked around the engine block, "Translation: they saw you coming. Jesus, it's like this-this demented jigsaw puzzle."

"And you _**love**_ puzzles, Bobby," his childhood friend grinned. "The Shelby wasn't in much better shape than this."

He had him there, Bobby acknowledged silently. "So, I take it you have a plan to get this up and running."

"I do. It's gonna involve a lot of nights, weekends...a bit of free labor," Lewis hinted.

"'bout ten years' worth," Bobby muttered. "With being back at Major Case..." he let he thought trail off.

"Oh, I know," Lewis nodded. "Speaking of, how is the lovely Detective Alex?"

"She's..why do you do that?" he was irritated.

"Let's see, she's smart, got a killer body, and knows cars probably as good as we do. What's not to love? Jeez, have you _**looked**_ at her, man? I mean, you see her every day, but she is..." his friend stopped when he caught a glimpse of Bobby's face. "Shit! Of course you look at her."

"Um, Alex is fine. I-I'm happy to be back working with her," Bobby stammered.

Lewis dropped the wrench he was holding, "Dude...are you...you and Detective Alex...?"

"What? No, no!" he denied it.

"Well, you always call her Eames, and now it's _**Alex**_. Come on, man, details!" Lewis was incredulous.

"There's nothin' to tell," Bobby groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Like hell," his friend countered.

Bobby threw up his hands, "It's not anything, yet. We're...uh, taking it slow. I think."

"Twelve years, for chrissake," Lewis pulled a couple beers from the garage fridge, and handed him one. "You think she isn't worth it?"

Bobby took a long slug of beer and contemplated, "My life has been fucked up for so long, I'm not sure I know how to even..."  
>"Like ridin' a bike, dude," Lewis laughed.<p>

Bobby gave him a good-natured shove, "Says the man who is a few years younger and likes to share the wealth with the ladies."

"Only because I ain't found anyone that..." Lewis chuckled. "Look, Bobby, if I had someone like her," he looked around the garage, "I wouldn't be spending my life here...or maybe I would, she might be good for some free labor."

"Asshole," Bobby laughed.

"If it doesn't work out, give her my number," Lewis grinned.

Alex walked into her apartment, dropping the bag with her dirty clothes from yesterday inside the door. She laced up her running shoes, and headed out for her usual circuit. Her headache from earlier had subsided, courtesy of lots of water and a second dose of ibuprofen. Her I pod was blasting Abba, her endorphins kicking the cobwebs from her brain. She stopped to grab a salad and yogurt from the corner store, knowing her fridge contents were paltry. A shower, a load of laundry and vegging in front of the TV completed her evening. She was between the sheets and lights out by ten o'clock. For a brief moment, she considered calling Bobby, but fell asleep before she finished the thought.

Bobby and Lewis spent the afternoon and evening plotting the resurrection of the behemoth in the back bay. Discussion of his potential relationship with his partner was shut down. Bobby felt awkward talking about Alex, like he was betraying a secret. God knows he was having enough trouble acknowledging those feelings himself. Lewis, for his part, knew him well enough to know that when he clammed up, it was better to just leave it alone.

Monday morning dawned hot and muggy. Alex and Bobby were at their desks by eight, ready to take on a new week. They sat through a department briefing on the Richman case, and returned phone messages and various emails from the weekend,

Bobby looked across his desk at his partner. She was following up on a phone lead, but it sounded like a dead end.

"Yes, ma'am, I know the address had three sixes in it. Uh huh," she rolled her eyes. "No, we didn't see any murals of the antichrist at the crime scene," she let the caller drone on. "But we can't really do a sketch from something you saw in your dream. I'm not calling you crazy, Mrs Antonio." She held the receiver from her ear as the woman on the other end let loose with a string of profanity. "Look, I have another call. Thanks for your time, ma'am." She slammed the receiver down.

"You handled that very well," he grinned.

"The bats are coming out of the woodwork," she snarked, taking a big gulp of coffee.

"I'm letting you handle the next one."

"Bats usually come out at night," he clarified. "They use echolocation to navigate and tend to sleep hanging upside down during the day."

"My daily dose of useless trivia," Alex groaned. "How I missed it."

"Just adding enrichment to your day," he chuckled.

"I'd prefer skittles," she grinned.

Bobby grinned back, "I know you would."

"Speaking of food, what should we order for lunch?" Alex tapped an email reply on her laptop.

He remembered Dr Gyson's suggestion from yesterday, "How about we go out for lunch, like maybe to the park?"

"A picnic?" she was incredulous. "It is crazy hot outside."  
>"So that's a no?" he was disappointed.<p>

"That's a 'someplace with air conditioning,'" Alex countered.

He pretended to mull it over, "Oh, well. I think I can live with that." Bobby did a quick web search for something close by. Ah, there. A new place, specializing in lunches 'for professionals with discerning tastes and limited breaks.' And it was a mere ten blocks away.

"Going to tell me where we're going?" she shut her laptop.

"When we get there," he teased.

The place he chose was lovely, upscale, and very busy. They took seats at the bar, hoping they would get served sooner.

The bartender took their orders, corned beef on rye with chips for Bobby, a pasta salad and fruit for Alex. They both drank large iced teas.

"This is beyond good," she took a bite of her salad.

"Mine, too," he mumbled, a mouth full of his sandwich.

"Nice picnic," she smiled at him. "No ants."

"A little noisy, but definitely cooler than the park," Bobby smiled back.

"So, tell me about this car Lewis is restoring," Alex requested.

"It's a piece of shit right now," he laughed. He went on to describe exactly how much work was going to be involved, showing her the picture he took with his cell to prove his point.

"Does he plan on finishing it in this decade?" she chuckled.

"With lots of free labor," Bobby flipped his phone closed and took another bite of his lunch. "He said you are more than welcome to help out, if you want."

"Oh, I'll bet," she said dryly. "Does he still...?"

"Have a crush on you, Detective Alex? Hell, yes," he smiled.

Her next comment astonished him, "He can crush all he wants, I'm already taken."

"Really?" he managed to squeak.

"Really," she was enjoying this.

Alex's fruit cup turned out to be fresh pineapple wedges, grilled, cooled, and drizzled with agave nectar. "Mmmm," she savored the flavor, closing her eyes.

"That good, huh?" he loved how expressive she was about great food.

She speared a slice of the fruit with her fork and fed it to him, her lips curved flirtatiously.

Here they were, in the middle of a busy restaurant, having what Bobby could only describe as an intensely intimate moment. When he could finally speak, his tone was hoarse, "Alex."  
>"Yeah?" she grinned.<p>

"I-uh, um..." he felt like a tongue-tied teenager.

"Pretty good, isn't it?" she said huskily.

"No, I mean, yeah..." he cast in his mind for the right words. "Would-would you have dinner with me?" he blurted.

She regarded him curiously, "You mean, grab a bite after work?"

"No, I mean...Like a d-date," he stammered.

Yes, yes, _**yes**_, she thought, her heart hammering in her throat.

"Alex? You-you, um, haven't answered me," Bobby looked worried.

"Yes," she said quickly. Yes, I want to date you. And kiss you, and go home with you...she gave him a brilliant smile. Maybe she should just stick with yes, and not scare him off. "When would you like to...?"

Bobby felt a huge wave of relief, "I was thinking, next Monday. It's the Fourth of July, and we don't have to work...I could pick you up for dinner, and then we could watch the fireworks...I know a couple places."

"You're making me wait a _**week**_, Bobby?" she was incredulous.

"Hey, after twelve years, a week's not so long. Besides, I need a little time to plan the perfect first date," he grinned.

"It _**will**_ be perfect," Alex's tone was tender. She reached out to hold his hand under the counter.

He squeezed back, "You're setting the bar high."

"With your long legs, I think you can clear it," she teased.

As they walked back to the office, they scarcely felt the heat and humidity. Bobby was almost giddy, his mind busily planning their upcoming date.

"Goren!" Alex sounded vexed.

"Huh?" he looked at her, wondering what had ticked her off.

"I said, the captain has a potential witness waiting in his office," she poked him in the ribs.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered. "I was just..."

"You sure you want to wait a week for this date? Because..." she stopped on the plaza outside One PP.

"A week," he said emphatically. "And I'm back in the game, now. I swear."

Turns out the witness was Sam Richman's best friend from college, David Markham. He and his family had flown in from Seattle for the funeral.

They led Markham to the conference room, offering him coffee.

"How long since you've seen Sam?" Alex asked.

He took a long sip, then plunged into his story. "About three years. I work at Microsoft, and with wives, kids...distance, we mostly kept in touch by phone or email. Never thought I'd be coming back to go to his...funeral," he stumbled over the words. "Sam and I were roommates at NYU, and we worked as waiters at Maxine's, this place off campus. It was a nice place, customers were mainly yuppies who tipped big. The owners were Greek immigrants, Stavros and Athena Mikos. They hired a lot of college kids, and people new to the States."

"Sounds like a good way to earn a few bucks," Bobby observed.

"It was," Markham nodded. "Worked there most of my undergrad years. Not a lot of turnover, even for college kids. There was this waitress, she was about ten or so years older than us, Her name was, uh, Galatea Dimitri. Lord, she was a hot chick," he paused, as if trying to frame his next words. "She-uh, chased Sam mercilessly."

"Did they hook up?" Alex asked.

Markham laughed ruefully, "We were twenty year old horny kids, and a woman of experience..."

Bobby nodded, "I get that. What... what made you think of her?"

"I hadn't seen her in twenty years, until the wake," he looked troubled. "I mean, I saw pictures...of someone who looked like her."

"Really?" Alex prompted. "Do you think they kept in touch over the years?"

He shook his head emphatically, "No. For Sam it was just a fling, you know? But she...it was bitter. Gala thought...he was her ticket. The Mikos' fired her. I heard later she married, had a kid. The thing is, this woman in the pictures, she was their _**housekeeper**_."

The detectives were dumbfounded. The housekeeper who was out of the country, the one who'd been MIA since the murders, was Sam Richman's old flame?

"Did-did Sam's family ever meet Galatea-when they were dating?" Bobby wondered aloud.

"Nah, it wasn't like that. And when I asked Sam's sister the housekeeper's name, she said her name was...Theresa Danton," David shook his head in disbelief. "I'm almost positive that...it's Gala."

"Do you think Sam knew who she was?" Alex was disturbed. Was Sam Richman as pure as everyone said? Or was he hiding a big ugly secret in plain sight?

"He _**had**_ to," Markham was equally dismayed. "Can't imagine he didn't know. Hell, I was able pick her out of a picture twenty years later."

"Then why...?" Bobby wondered aloud.

Markham's expression became grave, "This is...just gossip from back when they broke up. Word was...Gala's kid, the one she had...was Sam's."

"You ever ask him about it?" Alex was confrontational.

"He denied it," David said. "Sam...he was...careful, he had goals...He used protection. And if it was his kid...he was an honorable guy, even then." He leaned back in his chair. "I wonder if he hired her...because she had a hard luck story. Sam was trusting, even in the business he was in." He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stem tears. "I still can't believe he...Stella.. the kids..." his voice broke. "I dunno if this even makes any sense."

"It might," Bobby mused. "This child of hers, would be about what, nineteen or twenty?"

"Uh, about that. Don't even know boy or girl," he was sheepish. "Guess I felt like Sam'd dodged a bullet. We were so damn young."

They took Markham's contact information, and then he left to collect his family and return to Seattle. Bobby and Alex moved into the war room, and stared at the murder board, letting these new revelations digest.  
>"What do you think, just mistaken identity?" Alex said at length.<p>

Bobby shook his head slowly, "No. I think...she's our missing piece."

"The building maintenance guy, the one we haven't found, how old is he?" Alex had a thought, searching through their witness statements and employment records. "Here it is... son of a bitch..." she held out the piece of paper, hands shaking. "Samuel Nicholas Dimitri, DOB 6/19/91."

He took it and rubbed his hand over his face, "He turned twenty the day of the murders. That is _**not**_ a coincidence."

Captain Hannah appeared in the doorway, "Mr Microsoft solve your case?" he asked laconically.

The detectives exchanged a glance.

"Hey, that was a joke," Joe looked from one to the other.

"We're not laughing," Alex shot back. They spent the next hour in the captain's office discussing this newest development.

Hannah was not totally sold on the idea, "Twenty years? You think that someone would carry a grudge that long?"

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Bobby reminded him, pacing the room.

"Okay, for argument's sake, let's say they're mother and son, killing a deadbeat dad. Why kill the wife and kids?" he reasoned.

"Because...she wanted to obliterate his life...the life she was supposed to have!" Bobby yelled.

"Dial it down, detective," Hannah warned.

Alex looked at her partner, worried.  
>He sensed her eyes on him and drew a deep breath. "We're going nowhere with this until we get their asses in the box."<p>

They spent the rest of their week trying to track their latest theory, re interviewing the building staff, the family, neighbors of both the victims and the suspects, each time running into dead ends.

In the Friday afternoon briefing, Chief Moran was dubious, "You can't even come up with anything beyond twenty year old gossip."

Bobby and Alex tried mightily to keep a lid on their tempers, letting Hannah speak. "I think this is the most viable lead we've had since the start. We've got surveillance on their homes, and immigration has been alerted that they may be re entering the country. Detective Goren's profiling skills are vital to this investigation, as is Detective Eames' research."

They went back to their desks after the briefing, closing up shop for the weekend. "Do you realize that this is the first night this week we're out of here by six?" Alex marveled.

"As long as our perps stay out of the jurisdiction, we can live like normal people," Bobby was surly.

"Knock off the pity party, partner, we'll get them," she sniped.

"Yeah, right," he didn't want to let go of his pissy mood.

"Three whole days off, Bobby," she cast a glance around the squad room. "There is more to life than work," she added pointedly.

"It's just..." he slammed his binder down in frustration.

"Let's go get a drink, Bobby," she said quietly. "Please."

"Since you asked nice," he tried to smile.

By tacit agreement, they found a bar that was not inhabited by cops. They ordered their drinks, scotch for him, a margarita for her.

"Normal is not a dirty word," she began.

"I know," he shredded the edge of his cocktail napkin.

"Do you?" she stroked his fingertips lightly, stilling his fidgeting.

"Yeah," Bobby took her hand, squeezed. "Just wanting justice for them, you know? I spent the better part of a year unable to do that, and...now that I got a second chance..."

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Alex said softly. "But we can't let it consume us, we have to be more than the job." A pause, then, "Are you regretting, um, asking me out?"

"No! God, Alex, no!" he looked at her intensely. "I want...more than the job. But it's been so long...don't want to fuck us up."

"You mean I _**don't**_ have to put out on the first date?" she deadpanned.

He was taken aback for a second, then smirked, "Only if you want to. No pressure, though."

They both dissolved into laughter, causing the people at the nearby tables to look on.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" he inquired, as he downed the last of his drink.

"My brother Will just put in an above ground pool, so I plan on taking advantage of it," she grinned. "What about you?"

"Ah, I'll probably go help Lewis out some," he said. "Plus, I have, some, uh stuff to get ready for our date Monday."

"You still haven't told me anything about it," Alex reminded him. "Like, where are we going, what should I wear, what time?"  
>"I'll pick you up about five," he smiled. "And wear..whatever. You always look great."<br>"Bobby!" she protested.

"Okay, okay, um, nice casual," he laughed. "And we might be outside for the fireworks, so it might be kinda warm."

"Are you gonna let me drive the Shelby?' Alex asked.

"Nope, it's a date, Alex, which means _**I**_ drive," he insisted.

Saturday dawned hot and muggy, perfect pool weather. Alex went on her usual run, then tossed her bathing suit, sunscreen, towel, shades and a trashy novel into her beach tote. She pulled her hair into a scrunchie and dressed in a t shirt and cutoff jeans. She doubted that she'd get in much reading time, if very many of the Eames clan showed up. Still, she was looking forward to the family time. She stopped at the market and bought a big container of cut up fruit, her contribution to the potluck meal planned for late afternoon, then drove over to Inwood to pick up her father.

True to form, the Eames family trickled in throughout the day. Alex was having a blast, alternating dips in the pool with yard games with her nieces and nephews, horsing around with her brothers, sister and in-laws.

Lewis had been too hungover to want to work on the car, so Bobby spent the morning cleaning his apartment and doing some grocery shopping. He then set out to find Alex a birthday gift. Her birthday was actually Tuesday, and he wanted the present to be the icing on their date, so to speak. He had debated for weeks about what to get her. They never made a big deal about birthdays, usually just treating each other to a nice lunch, and simple gifts. But he wanted this year to be special. He'd searched the internet, and some of the shops in his neighborhood, until he found the perfect gift. It was a bracelet, Celtic knot design, that looked like finely woven gold braids. He felt it was the impeccable symbol of their friendship. He had the jeweler wrap the box, and headed home. Bobby knew that Alex was with her family, but he wanted to hear her voice. He picked up his phone.

Johnny Eames sat on the patio, enjoying seeing his family gather. Not for the first time, he wished his Annie was here with him. How she would love to see how their brood had turned out! He took a drag on his cigarette and watched his daughters dole out popsicles to the kids. Johnny thought about Alex, and her seemingly growing relationship with her partner. He'd wondered when they'd come to seek his advice on that scumbag Jack Driscoll. Bobby's eyes had followed her around the room, smiling as he'd looked at childhood pictures. True, Alex had brought him around the family a number of times through the years, but something was different. Nathan's little tidbits about last weekend only added to his rumination.

The ring of a cell phone at his elbow made him scowl, "God damn, kids these days can't be without their phones." He looked at the caller ID, Bobby Mobile. Speak of the devil, Johnny thought, taking a drink of his beer. For a brief moment, he considered getting his daughter's attention, then thought better of it. He hit the answer button, "Bobby, my boy, how are you?"

"Mr Eames, uh, I'm fine. Was just looking for your daughter," he stammered. Bobby could hear the splash of water and the background noise of kids and adults laughing.

"You got a call out?" Johnny hadn't forgotten the iniquities of cop culture.

"No, nothing like that," he assured him. "Just wanted to say hello."

"What are you doing today, son?" Mr Eames inquired.

"Not much, just catching up on stuff at home. Been working pretty hard this last couple weeks," Bobby explained.

"Well, why don't you come on over here? We got a lot of food, some cold beer, and a pool," Johnny invited.

"Uh, well, I don't want to crash a family party, sir," he stammered.

"Partners are family, too," Alex's father grinned to himself. He lowered his voice, "Besides, we're gonna celebrate my daughter's birthday tonight, whether she wants to or not."

Bobby shook his head ruefully, "She doesn't know?"

"Nope, and you're not going to tell her," Johnny laughed. "Do you know the address?"

"Yeah, I think so," he replied.

He arrived at Will's house in about an hour, carrying a big dish of Alex's favorite pasta salad, courtesy of his neighborhood deli, as well as a beach towel and swim trunks rolled together. Bobby saw Alex sitting in one of the lounge chairs, clad in a modest black bikini, her hair hanging in damp clumps. She was slurping a cherry popsicle, one of her little nieces on her lap.

She didn't see him at first, but Nate did, "Bobby, did you come to play in the pool with us?" the little boy hollered.

"I did," Bobby set the food down on a nearby table and swung the little boy high.

Alex turned at the sound of his voice, surprised. She got up, and moved over to him, resisting the urge to throw her arms around him and plant a kiss on his grinning face. He was clad in a black t shirt, camo shorts and beat up sandals.

He put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze. Bobby caught the smell of chlorine, coconut sunscreen and the faint scent of the cherry popsicle she'd been slurping.

They didn't get much alone time together, as the children latched on to their aunt's partner like a new fun playmate. Alex's siblings tried to hide their surprise at Bobby's presence, and by the end of the afternoon, it was like he'd been part of their family always.

Johnny wore a satisfied grin all day, and his eldest daughter called him on it as they were putting food on the long banquet tables. "You're responsible for this, Dad," she said in mock dismay.

He laughed as Bobby got dunked by Eric, "Honey, I just answered your phone while you were in the pool."  
>"Yeah, right," she kissed his cheek.<p>

The other big attraction Bobby brought was his classic car. The guys especially were enamored of it.

Alex emerged from the house, telling them that if they wanted food, the car show was over.

"Man, this baby has to be a dream to drive," Jack, Alex's oldest brother commented.

"It is," Alex laughed.

"Dude, you let a _**girl **_drive your car?" the neighbor kid, Mitch, asked Bobby incredulously.  
>Bobby winked at Alex, "Well, not just <em><strong>any <strong>_girl."

As the sun slid towards the horizon, the adults changed out of their damp swimsuits and back into shorts and jeans. The littlest ones were bathed and put into pajamas. Liz carefully carried a sheet cake out to the patio, adorned with lit sparklers and skittles. Everyone joined in a heartfelt chorus of "happy birthday."

"If I have to be one year older, this is a pretty nice way to celebrate," Alex admitted as she took a bite of cake. "Thanks everyone!"

"You have presents, too!" Nate brought out a basket.

"I'll need some help opening all this," she laughed. The gifts included spa certificates, restaurant and Starbucks gift cards, a bottle of her favorite wine, candles and bubble bath.

"Gee, I wonder who, um-_**what**_ you'll do with all that snazzy stuff," her eldest niece, Ashley, teased.

"You're too young to know about that," Alex shook her finger.

"Hey, I'm twenty years old and four months pregnant," she sassed back.

"And this is not the time for _**that**_ conversation," Ashley's mother Maeve scolded.

Jessica played peacemaker, "This is Alex's day, ladies."  
>"Yeah!" Nate agreed, not understanding what his aunts and cousins were fussing about. "Bobby, did you get Aunt Alex a present?"<p>

Bobby grinned over at his partner, "I sure did, but she's not getting it 'til her real birthday on Tuesday."

"Wooohooo," the adults all laughed, making him and Alex blush.

Nate pressed, "What did you get her?"

Bobby leaned down and whispered in his ear, "It's a secret."

The little boy nodded, "Oh, okay."

Alex pretended to pout, "I don't even get a hint?"

"No," Bobby sent her a look that sent a tingle to her toes.

After the cake was demolished, they lit more sparklers, making sure the younger kids stayed away from the hot wires.

The evening wound down, everyone pitched in to clean up. Floodlights illuminated the back yard, as the tables were torn down, and litter gathered up and pitched. Alex was using the garden hose to make sure the bucket of spent sparklers was totally cold, when Bobby emerged through the patio door. Impulsively, she turned the hose on him.

He gasped and started laughing, "You little shit!"

She dropped the hose and ran, seeing the glint in his eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there!" halfway across the yard, she slipped in the wet grass.

Bobby used that to his advantage, scooping her into his arms and dropping her in the pool.

The family that was still around doubled over in merriment, seeing their tough sister bested by her partner.

Alex emerged from the water, sputtering and cussing.

Johnny hollered, "Language, Alex, there are kids present!"

She shot him a dagger look as Liz handed her a towel. "Well, I guess you'll have to hitchhike back to Inwood, Dad."

"No, he won't," Bobby insisted, drying off with his own towel. "How'd you like a ride in a classic car, sir?"

"Why, thank you, son," Johnny was delighted. "I'll be out in a minute."

Alex walked Bobby out, carrying a basket of leftovers for her dad. Nate trailed behind, unbeknownst to either of them. She put the basket in the back seat, and then turned to her partner.

Bobby leaned against the open drivers side door."Alex, I really am sorry I dunked you," he twisted a strand of her wet hair with a finger.

She pressed a hip against him and said softly, "Pants on fire?"

He felt his face flush as he put his mouth to her ear, "Totally." Bobby moved away from her as Johnny emerged from the house, and he caught sight of Nate. "We have an audience," he said under his breath.

Johnny gave his eldest daughter a hug, chuckling, "Still a little damp around the edges, Lex."

"And whose fault is that?" she glared in mock dismay. Bobby, behind the wheel, snickered.

Johnny got into the passenger side, and buckled his seat belt. "Happy birthday, Honey."

"Drive safe, call me when you get home," she said, her hand on Nate's head.  
>"Good night Grandpa, 'night Bobby," the little boy chirped, waving as they drove away.<p>

Alex and Nate walked into the kitchen, where Liz, and their sisters-in-law Melanie and Jessica where having an animated discussion.

"They have these..._**conversations **_without saying anything," Liz commented.

"Did you see the look on her face when she got out of the pool? She was _**pissed**_!" Jessica laughed.

"Well, I got over it," Alex walked in and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the counter.

"Nate, you need to get your pajamas on, it is way past your bedtime," Liz told her son.

"We get to stay all night? Like a slumber party? Cool!" he scampered out of the room. The kids were bedded down in sleeping bags in the family room, a DVD playing on the big screen. Will, Eric and Patrick were in charge of getting the children to settle, while the women were having a gabfest in the kitchen.

"So, when are you two going to move past this marriage without sex thing?" Will's wife Melanie cut to the chase.

"Mel!" Alex nearly choked on her wine.

"Well? You didn't answer my question," Melanie persisted.

"We're just partners and best friends," Alex said primly, but she couldn't hide the twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, _**right**_," Jessica teased. "When he walked in this afternoon, you looked at each other like..."

"...blistering paint," Liz finished.

"Like that," Jess waved a hand.

Nate bounded back in the room, "Hey, I gotta question!"

"What's that, buddy?" Alex beamed at him.

"What does pants on fire mean?" he asked.

Alex blanched, thinking oh, shit.

Before she could formulate a cogent response, Liz remarked, "First of all, you're supposed to be in bed, little man, and second, where did you hear that?"

"Aunt Alex asked Bobby that, when they were by his car," he answered.

"What did he say to _**her**_?" Melanie wondered, ignoring Alex's discomfiture.

"He was whispering, so I didn't hear," Nate sighed.

"Wanna handle this one, _**Aunt Alex**_?" Liz scowled.

"Boy, can't keep any kind of secret in this family, can we?" Alex groaned. "It was a private joke, okay?"

"What's it mean?" Nate persisted.

"Sometimes grownups have special things they say to each other that kids aren't supposed to hear. It's not a bad thing, it's just private," his mother explained. "Now, let's go to bed," she escorted her son from the room, scowling at her sister over her shoulder.

"I didn't know Nate was listening," Alex groaned.

"Oh, that's more than obvious," Melanie grinned. "C'mon, Alex, Bobby looks like he'd be fun in bed."

There were whoops of laughter as Alex blushed, "Bobby and I are not...and you're a married woman!"

"Married, three kids but not dead," Mel shot back. "And if you haven't done him, it's only a matter of time."

Meanwhile, Bobby was getting his own Eames interrogation.

Johnny didn't mince words, "You made my little girl's day, today, Bobby."

Bobby wasn't sure how to answer that, "You-you give me a little too much credit, Mr Eames. She always loves spending time with family."  
>"Son, I think it's high time you called me Johnny," Alex's dad grinned. "And she is all for the family, but when you walked into the yard...we're not blind. Alex is...joyous, for want of a better word."<p>

"We're both grateful to have our jobs back, to be working together again," Bobby said.

"I'm a father, and I have to ask you something, man to man," Johnny paused. "Do you love my daughter?"

"Uh, I.. um," Bobby stammered, "that's really personal."

"Look, son, I'm not demanding that you ask for her hand, or any bullshit like that," Mr Eames laughed. "Although another cop in the family couldn't hurt. Just...make her happy."

"That I can promise," Bobby was relieved. He turned onto Post, and found a spot near Johnny's building. He got out and reached for the picnic basket in the back seat.

Alex's dad laughed, "I'm not some decrepit old man, Bobby. I can get to the door."

Bobby shook his head, "Your daughter would be less than pleased if anything happened to you under my watch."  
>""I won't tell if you won't," Johnny joked. "Thanks for the ride, son, that car is a real classic. Don't make 'em like that anymore."<p>

"You're welcome, uh, Johnny," Bobby smiled. "And thanks for letting me crash the party today...I really enjoyed it."  
>"Door's always open," he waved goodnight from the front stoop.<p>

Bobby steered his car towards Brooklyn, mulling over their conversation and the events of the day. He felt...accepted. Like his presence was natural. He realized that having a relationship with Alex meant becoming a member of a family. Even a few months ago, that might have scared him off. Now, whether it was therapy or his growing commitment to Alex, he could see himself welcoming this new chapter. Once home in bed, he picked up his phone and called her.

Alex grabbed her cell on the first ring, making the other women laugh.

"She has had issues this week with other people answering her phone," Liz said in a stage whisper, as she came back into the kitchen.

Her sister pointedly ignored them, "Just a second, Bobby." She took herself and her phone out to the patio, shutting the door behind her. "That's better."

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" he wondered.

"Nope, just too many ears listening," she laughed. "You get home okay?"  
>"Yeah, I did. Had a nice visit with your dad," Bobby said.<p>

"Oh, Lord," Alex groaned. "How bad was it?"

"It wasn't bad, really," he insisted.

"Don't lie to your partner, Goren, I've been his daughter for a long time..." she sighed.

"Almost forty five years," he interrupted.

Stony silence on her end.

"Maybe I could have phrased that better," Bobby pacified. "He wanted to know my intentions, I guess."

"Shit," Alex was up and pacing. "What-what did you say?"

"Well, I sure as hell didn't tell him we were about to go on our first date," he chuckled.

"Good plan," she sat back down. "I could see someone in this family putting a tail on us, just for the hell of it."

"He just said...he wanted you to be happy," Bobby's voice was tender. "I promised that I would do my best."

"Aw," her heart melted. "You sure we have to wait two more days?"  
>"It's actually closer to one more day, Alex," he grinned. "So, what are your plans for Sunday?"<p>

"The usual, run, maybe do some yoga, hit the salon for a haircut, get a mani/pedi, and go in search of something killer to wear on Monday," her voice was silky.

"Um, do me a favor, don't cut your hair too much, I-uh, love it long," he stammered.

"Must be a guy thing," she rolled her eyes. "So what are you doing tomorrow..." she squinted at her phone, "well, today."  
>"Got a text from Lewis, he wants to work on the car, plus his mom is cooking us Sunday dinner. Probably to bribe me," he laughed ruefully.<p>

She laughed along with him, "I guess I should let you get to bed."

"I'm already there," Bobby loved the lilt in her voice. "Are you driving home?"

"Nope, had a few glasses of wine, so going to crash here," she assured him.

"Good. So, can I call you tomorrow? If you're not too busy glamming yourself up," he added.

"Of course you can," she giggled. "And when I get a break, I'll call you."

"Alex, just one more thing...I had an amazing time today," he told her.

"My family didn't scare you off, then," she sighed in relief.

"The best part was seeing you in a bikini," he said huskily. "It may have to go in the naughty dreams file."

"The camo swim trunks were doing it for me. You have a damn fine butt," her voice was suggestive.

"I can see where this conversation is going," he shifted in bed, her words going right to his groin.

"South?" she teased.

"Twenty-nine hours and counting," he said softly. "Sweet dreams, Alex."

"Naughty dreams, Bobby," she countered hoarsely. Alex sat in the darkness of the patio, their conversation making the anticipation ever sharper.

The door slid open, "Are you going to talk all night?" Liz inquired.

"Nope," Alex wore a sappy grin.

"What do you find to talk about? I mean, you spend twelve hours a day with each other."

her sister followed her back into the kitchen.

"You'd be surprised," she said dreamily.

"Oh, phone sex," Jessica nodded sagely.

"My God, you figured it out," Alex laughed. "Night everyone," she walked down the hall to the guest room.

Sunday dawned muggy and stormy, but Alex could have cared less. After a morning at home, flipping through her closet and debating what to wear on their date, she went to the gym and pounded the elliptical. A light lunch, and then off to the spa. One of Maeve's friends had opened a weekend-only place, catering to people with non-traditional work schedules. Alex lost herself in the girly pleasure of being totally pampered; massage, mani/pedi, and her hair colored and trimmed. After that, she went shopping, unhappy with what was in her closet. She felt a little silly, but she wanted something new, something Bobby hadn't seen her in. She settled on a sleeveless black dress with a bright splash of scarlet tropical flowers. The hem hit about mid-thigh and the neckline zoomed to a deep V. She found a pair of open-toed black pumps, all the better to expose her crimson toe nails, and splurged on sexy lingerie. Not that she was expecting him to see_** that**_...she assured herself at the register. They were taking things slow. Really. She looked up at the clock. Twenty-four hours.

Bobby, Lewis, and Lewis' older brother Tom spent their Sunday sorting through the parts of the F85, and surveying the machine. Surprisingly, the motor was in respectable shape, it was the rest that would take the effort. Lewis mother fed them pot roast with all the trimmings for dinner. They shared stories of growing up in the old neighborhood, of scrapes with the law, and teenage pranks. Tom and Lewis noticed that Bobby had cut back on his beer and smokes consumption, and how he'd mastered texting on the sly.

Tom ragged on him about it,"Hey, man, what's up with the Mr Clean image?"

Bobby took a sip of the beer he was holding and a drag of a cigarette, "Does it look like I'm reformed?"

"Well, you _**look**_ healthier," Tom said cautiously. "Back in the day, you could finish a twelve pack of beer and burn through a couple packs of smokes while we worked."

"Part of getting my job back was agreeing to straighten up," Bobby grinned laconically.

Lewis laughed outright, "Well, that and a certain pretty little detective."

"Oh, so that explains the phone fetish," Tom chuckled.

Bobby refused to comment, just laughed. He'd missed talking to Alex today, but they'd been exchanging texts.

"How's the spa day going?" sent at 12:30 PM.

"Great. How's the behemoth?" Sent at 2:30.

"Coming along. What r u doing right now?" sent at 2:45.

"Mani/pedi. Sleepy after massage," sent at 3:00.

"No longer naked?" sent at 3:15.

"Sorry u missed it," sent at 3:45.

"Me 2," sent at 4:30.

"Found perfect dress. What r u doing?" Sent 5:20.

"Sitting down to pot roast. Send pic," sent 6:00.

"U will see in 23 :)" sent 6:10.

Alex juggled shopping bags, while holding an iced latte and unlocking her apartment. And her cell was ringing. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Not even a sneak peek?" Bobby teased.

She flopped into a chair and took a big sip of her drink, "Of what?"

"Your purchases today," he was kicked back on his couch.

"Which ones, the nail polish, the mocha latte, or the grilled chicken pesto sandwich?" she grinned.

"Cute," he said. "You mentioned a dress."

"I did, didn't I?" Alex demurred. "I hope you like it."

"I-I'm sure I will," Bobby stammered. "Damn it."

"What?" she queried.

"Wondering whose idiot idea it was to wait until tomorrow," he said ruefully.

"Hmm, care to change your mind?" Alex purred.

"Yes, no...don't tempt me," Bobby warned.

"Twenty whole hours..." she singsonged.

They each found ways to make the time go faster on Monday. Alex went for her usual run, did some yoga, caught up on email, chatted with a couple girlfriends.

Bobby hit the treadmill hard, and went to the office for a few hours to see if there was any progress on the Richman surveillance. Nothing. He stopped at a local bakery, then headed back home. Gathering purchases from earlier in the week, he transformed his tiny back terrace for later. Satisfied with his handiwork, he hit the shower and shaved. He pulled out black jeans, black T shirt, and a gray jacket. Cologne, teeth brushed, breath mints in his pocket. Reservation printout in his wallet. He walked out to the Shelby and pointed it towards Forest Hills. Without realizing it, he sent up a silent prayer, "Please don't let me screw this up."

Alex looked at herself critically in the full length mirror before she slipped the dress on. Thanks to her attention to yoga and running, she was as toned as someone years younger. There were a few stretchmarks, and her breasts sagged a bit, courtesy of time and her one pregnancy. Her skin had a light golden glow, thanks to the spray tan the spa had talked her into yesterday. Dress on, she smoothed it over her hips, and tugged up the zipper. She put a hand over her stomach, trying to calm the butterflies. Necklace and rings on, ruby studs and small gold hoops in her ears. After an internal debate, she left her hair down. A sip of water, one last touch up of her lipstick...the buzzer stopped her stewing.

She went to the door, and opened it, "Hi," she said shyly, "you look...wow." Man, he looked...The black jeans and shirt...her favorite. Her eyes skittered up to his.

"You look...beautiful," he stammered, forgetting the flowers in his hand.

"Come in," Alex invited.

"Th-thanks," he said, then when she'd closed the door, he held out the pretty nosegay of flowers, tied with white lace and pink ribbon. "These are for you."

She took them and sniffed them rapturously, "They are gorgeous, thank you!' Alex kissed his cheek. "Keep me company while I put them in water."

He followed her to the kitchen, and held the flowers, while she searched for a vase under the sink. She found a squat crystal one and rinsed it under the faucet, filling it with water and the little packet of floral preservative. He set the bouquet in carefully, fingering the petals.

"The, um, flowers have some significance," he explained as she set them on the mantel.

Alex slipped her arm around his waist and said softly, "Impress me."  
>"These purple ones are alstroemeria, and they symbolize friendship and devotion. The-the leaves grow upside down, twisting as they grow out from the stem so that the bottom is facing upwards, like the twists and turns...and growth of true friendships. The white ones are lisianthus, and they represent appreciation. Pink roses symbolize gratitude and admiration. And the Queen Anne's lace means sanctuary," he finished, looking down at her, and froze.<p>

Tears were brimming in her eyes, "Bobby...that's the sweetest..." she blinked hard. "I spent a half hour on my makeup, and we're not even going to get out of the house." Alex kissed him full on the lips.

Bobby returned the kiss, tasting the salt of her spilled tears, then put his hands on her shoulders, "Listen, we've got all the time in the world for this. Your makeup is fine, and if we don't leave right now..."

"Thank you for the flowers," she gave him a watery grin.

As they walked arm in arm to his car, he smiled. "If I'd known flowers would get that reaction, I would've tried it a long time ago." He held open her door with a flourish.

Alex opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it.

Bobby went around to the drivers side and fired up the engine, "Ready?"

"Um, hmm," she leaned back, a blissful smile on her face. "You still haven't shared where we're going."

He headed west, "I've done a lot of research as to the best place to watch the fireworks, and came up with...Hudson Terrace."  
>She looked at him, stunned, "You mean <em><strong>the<strong>_ Hudson Terrace, rooftop, open bar, barbecue, best seats in Manhattan..._**that**_ place?"

"You've been there," he worried.

"Never in my life, but I've heard about it," she hastened to assure him.

"If you think it's too fancy..." he teased.

"Oh, I think I can live with it," she was incredulous.

The venue didn't disappoint. The food was the perfect complement to the holiday, in an elegant atmosphere. They didn't over-indulge in the open bar, tempting as it was. They sat on a small couch, sipping their drinks after dinner, talking quietly, waiting for the fireworks to start. There was no mention of work, just soaking in the ambiance.

"I haven't seen your niece Ashley for years." Bobby said. "Sensed a little tension there."

"Well, she's a twenty year old pregnant college student, something that does not go over well in Maeve's family," she said dryly.

"Is the baby's father involved?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, he's a nice kid. They've been going together for four years, and he's a senior at NYU. Ryan Nelson. They're getting married in October," Alex said.

"She looks so much like you, she could be your daughter," he smiled.

"With her full share of Eames bullheadedness," she laughed ruefully. "When she found out she was pregnant, Jack and Maeve wanted them to hurry up and get married before she started showing. Ashley said this wasn't 1950 and she was having a big church wedding in the fall, because that was what she'd always dreamed of. And she'd find a dress that accommodated her seven months pregnant belly."  
>Bobby laughed, "Think they'll make it?"<p>

"I hope so. They're young, but they're very practical, hard-working. They're in love, have a connection..." she mused.

"And a baby coming," he added.

"That, too," Alex agreed. "I'm going to be one of the bridesmaids."

"I see a frilly pink dress in your future," Bobby laughed.

"Hell, no," she replied. "The color is chocolate truffle, and as those kind of dresses go, it's pretty nice." She paused shyly, "You'll see-if you're my wedding date."

"Mm, I'll think about it," he grinned.

At that moment, the first fireworks started exploding in the sky. They stood together, arms around each other, watching the spectacular show. Both native New Yorkers, Bobby and Alex had seen the grand pyrotechnics for many years. But this year, in this time and place, seemed the most marvelous of all.

When the last sparks trickled from the sky, they made their way back to his car. Traffic was heavy, and there was a lot of stop-and-go. Alex realized that Bobby was heading to Brooklyn rather than Forest Hills. She looked at him quizzically.

"Hey, date's not over yet," he smirked.

"Oh," she said.

"Trust me?" Bobby asked soberly.

"With my life," Alex grinned.

"Good," he nodded. It was nearly midnight when they walked into his apartment.

"Give me a minute to get ready," he tossed his jacket aside and walked towards the back door. "And don't look!"

"Can I at least use the bathroom?" she grinned.

"Yes," and he left the room.

Alex emerged from the bathroom, and took a seat on the couch. The smell of fresh espresso wafted from the kitchen, making her mouth water.

Bobby came back in, and held up a hand, "Just one more minute. Close your eyes."

"I didn't know you were such a fan of cloak and dagger," she snarked.

"Are they closed?" he called from the doorway.  
>"Yes, damn it," she leaned against the cushions. The next thing she knew, he was taking her hand in his, and feeling herself led by him across the room and down a few steps.<p>

"Now," he whispered in her ear.

She opened her eyes to a magical scene. The tiny garden was strung with miniature white lights and votive candles glittering in sand filled glass jars. There was a small cafe table set with a white cloth and two chairs. The table was adorned with a vase holding a single red rose, two cups of steaming espresso, a small wrapped package and a large cupcake with a sparkling lone candle. Her heart was ready to burst, "Oh, Bobby," she whispered, turning to hug him.

"Since it's now twelve o one AM on July 5th, it's official," he pressed a kiss into her hair. "Happy birthday, Alex."

"Thank you, thank you," she rained light kisses all over his face.

He pressed a hand to her cheek, "Don't you want your present?"  
>"This whole evening has been a present," she gave him a watery smile as she sat down.<p>

"That's a date, this...is your present," he handed her the package.

With shaking fingers, she slipped the wrapping off, and opened the box, revealing the bracelet, "Bobby, it's gorgeous!" she fingered the delicate gold.

"It-it's interlocked Celtic knots, the Irish symbol of friendship," he explained, taking the bracelet and fastening on her wrist. "I just...wherever this goes with...us, being best friends first...means everything to me."

"To me, too," she whispered, not bothering to stop the tears, even as she favored him with a brilliant smile. "Thank you, this is the best birthday." she squeezed his hand.

"Make a wish," he indicated the cupcake.

She closed her eyes briefly then blew out the candle. She promptly stuck her finger in the frosting, taking a taste, "Chocolate ganache, mmm,"

"With chocolate truffle filling," he laughed.

They sipped their espresso and nibbled at the cupcake, sharing a single fork. When it was gone, Bobby and Alex extinguished the candles and held each other in the dim light.

"I just don't know, Bobby," she murmured into his chest.

"Don't know what?" he tipped her face up to his.

"How you're going to top this for our next date," she giggled.

"Oh, so there's going to be a next date?" he breathed against her mouth.

"I'd consider it," then she ran her tongue over his lips, savoring the taste of coffee and chocolate and Bobby.

He didn't bother to answer, but parted her lips further with his own tongue. Oh, God, he thought. How did he not know how good this would feel? One hand slid down her side to her waist, then to the small of her back, while the other tangled in her silky hair.

Alex made a small mewling sound and reached her hand to the back of his neck, her other arm firmly around his waist. She stood slightly on tiptoe, trying to get closer.

"Uh...um, we'd better stop or..." he sighed reluctantly.

"...we might never stop," they said in unison, laughing ruefully.

"Not such a bad thing, though," she rubbed a hand over his butt.

"Taking it slow, remember?" he smiled, as one hand wandered over her ribs to her breast.

"Right," Alex groaned, feeling his arousal matching her own.

"We have time," he gently disentangled them.

She fanned her flushed face, "I just hate it when you're right."

He handed her the jewelers box and the rose in the vase, then they made their way out the door and back to his car.

Alex stroked the petals of the rose with a fingertip, "A single red rose, a sign of love and fidelity," she murmured.

"You _**do**_ listen to me," he reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Always," she smirked. "Even when I pretend not to."

A short drive to Forest Hills, and a few more goodnight kisses...

The next morning, Bobby woke to a text. He smiled as he read, "Best. First date. Ever. Love, Alex."

Captain Hannah noticed a rose in a vase on Detective Eames' desk, "Have an admirer?" he asked.

"Just a gift from my best friend" she smiled, looking at her partner.

_**This is not the last chapter, I promise. For those on the message boards, I had to include a little BTSOH. Sigh. It looks as if 10.8 is the last as far as USA is concerned. Shame, shame. I guess the land of FF will just have to keep them alive for us. Reviews are like chocolate, I take any and all. Have a great week, everyone :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you for the kind words on the last chapter. And kudos to the person who got the-um-Arnold-connection! Canon demands ripped from the headlines, after all, with that Law and Order twist. It has been suggested that Bobby and Alex should have gotten horizontal on that first date.**_** Believe ****_me, it was tempting. But Bobby is in therapy for a reason, and I came at this from that angle. They're going to indulge in some adult fun (which is why there's an M rating :) and we'll have a bit with the shrink. In addition, the Richman family is about to get a big push towards justice. I own nothing, just borrowing them._**

"Hmm, what to do first?" Alex scrolled through her email, hoping for just one tiny break on the Richman case.

Bobby was assigned the task of following up with the tip line. Not as many crazies as last week, for which he was thankful. He'd slept little after their date, wondering if they should have just...but he was the one who wanted to take things slow. Wasn't he? He tried to refocus on the tips that had come in, while watching his partner sitting across from him.

Alex took a sip of coffee and a bite of her danish, catching a drip of frosting with a fingertip and licking it off.

Lord help me, even the littlest thing she does is sexy, he groaned silently. Maybe he should go to the war room, get her out of his line of sight for a bit.

As if reading his mind, she looked up at him and grinned.

"Cute," he muttered.

"Might have fewer distractions in the conference room," she gave voice to his thoughts.

"Dunno how I'm going to get through this day," he muttered as they walked to the war room.

"Trouble sleeping?" she asked. Innocuous words but loaded with subtext.

"Too much espresso late at night," Bobby replied.

"Hmm, switch to decaf," Alex suggested as they cleared the doorway. They took seats across from each other. "Or maybe we could come up with a better cure for your insomnia."

"Ea-eames!" his voice rose a few pitches.

"What? I was just, you know, thinking out loud," she mused.

"Not on the first date," he shook his head.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never ended up in bed with someone on a first date," she scoffed.

He looked sheepish.

"Thought so," she grinned. "So why not me?"  
>"Not sure I want to have this conversation here," he demurred, looking furtively at the door.<p>

"Then over lunch and then dinner tonight?" her voice was silky.

"Asking me on a date?" he smiled.

"Two, because it _**is**_ my birthday," she said.

"Yes, it is," he reached over and fingered her bracelet. "Two in one day?"

"Goren, haven't you heard of the three date rule?" Alex laughed.

"Ye-Yeah," he stammered. "But..."

"But what? It's not like we just met. I wouldn't think less of you..." she said quietly.

"Don't laugh," he warned.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," she bit back a grin.

"What I feel for you is...way beyond sex. I want to-to court you, okay?" he finally got the words out.

She formed the words silently, court me? "Are you for real?" she asked aloud.

Before they could take the conversation further, Hannah stuck his head in the conference room door, "Anyone looking for a Greek housekeeper and her kid?"

They bolted from their seats, "You'd better not be fucking with us, Joe," Bobby warned.

"No, not kidding, they just cleared customs," their boss informed them. "INS is bringing them in about an hour."

"Happy birthday to me," Alex snarked.

"Guess lunch will have to wait," Bobby said ruefully.

"Who cares, if we can nail these bastards," she said vehemently.

They spent the hour reviewing the salient information from the crime scene, witness statements and video. Since the information from Mr Markham was technically hearsay, the DA had declined to issue search warrants for Ms Danton's and Mr Dimitri's residence. Right now, the interviews were considered witness statements. Alex and Bobby had hammered out the details of how the interrogations were to proceed last week, so it was just a matter of putting them into play. Two ADA's were en route to observe.

The plan was to bring mother and son to a conference room, rather than interrogation. The two detectives would interview mother and son together, tossing softballs at first. Next, they would amp it up a bit, asking for DNA samples, fingerprints, presenting it as a voluntary measure, just to exclude them from the crime scene. Their cooperation or lack thereof, might get them information that would be grounds for a warrant.

"Ready?" Bobby asked as the suspects cleared the elevator, accompanied by INS.

"Let's play," Alex answered.

Galatea Dimitri, aka Theresa Danton, came into the room, and shook hands with both detectives. At 52, she was a shadow of the striking beauty she was twenty years before. Her long curly black hair was shot with gray, and she looked to be carrying about forty extra pounds. Her dark eyes were fiery, her carriage imperious. Her son, Samuel, was a younger version of Gala. He seemed shy, with impeccable manners. His mother was less guarded, more voluble.

"We can't tell you how horrible it was to come home to such a terrible tragedy," the housekeeper began. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but the detectives failed to see any actual tears.

"I can't imagine," Alex was sympathetic. "You've been on vacation?"  
>"In Greece, visiting my parents," Ms Dimitri nodded. "They live in a small village, and they're getting on in years." She patted her son's hand, "Sam wanted to see his grandparents before..."<p>

Bobby finished her sentence, "Before they passed away. I understand that, both my parents and brother are gone. Hard to lose that link with your past, especially with them living so far away."

She tossed her curly hair, "And trips back home are so expensive. We saved for a long time to afford it."

"Ma wanted me to celebrate my birthday in the mother country," Sam offered, a slight smirk on his face.

"That's nice," Alex smiled back, her teeth gritted. "Birthdays at your age are special. When you get to be _**my**_ age," she rolled her eyes, "it's really just another day."

"She's only saying that because she's working on her birthday," Bobby said conspiratorially.

"Today?" Gala asked, with forced gaiety. "Happy birthday!"

The detective made a wry face, "Thanks." She turned to Sam, inquiring, "So, how many candles on your cake?"

Sam blushed at her friendly tone, "Um, twenty."

"Well, I guess we'd better quit socializing and get back to the case at hand," Bobby pretended reluctance. "How long have you worked for the Richman family?"

"Uh, about three years?" Galatea looked at her son.

"I was finishing my junior year in high school," Sam nodded.

"How did you come to work for them?" Bobby asked, scribbling on a yellow legal pad.

"I-uh, had worked for another family in the building, the Benedicts. The family was relocating to California, and I was in need of a job. The Richmans' son Tate went to nursery school with the Benedicts' daughter, Paige," Ms Dimitri explained. "Mr and Mrs Richman were new to the building, and she was pregnant. The Benedicts gave me a good reference."

Alex and Bobby exchanged a glance. Just enough truth to make it seem plausible. "So, Sam, you work for the Richmans, too?" she asked.  
>"Um, no, ma'am, not for the family, just do building maintenance, part time," he replied.<p>

"Sam is a student at NYIT," Gala said proudly. "He has a full scholarship, just works for spending money."

"Wow, that's great," Alex enthused."What's your major?"

"Computer science," he admitted.

"So working for building maintenance involves...?" she asked.

"Oh, just fixing stuff, keeping the public areas spiffed up, plumbing, some basic wiring," Sam said, trying to appear casual.

"I'll bet you can help when the rich people crash their computers, son," Bobby chuckled.

"Once in a while," Sam nodded.

"Ms Danton, did you enjoy working for the Richmans?" Alex asked.

"They paid well, and the hours were acceptable," the housekeeper was non committal.

"Hmm," Bobby mused. "What were they like as people?"

Mother and son exchanged a look.

"Reason we ask," Alex explained. "Everyone we've talked to say they were this perfect family. No one wants to speak ill of the dead."

"They were nice people," Galatea said guardedly. "Mrs Richman...was pretty involved with her children, her charity works. Mr Richman-he worked a lot, but when he was home, he was kind, to me, and to my son."

"Any arguments, did he and his wife get along?" Bobby inquired.

"I've always considered it in poor taste to gossip about my employers," she said stiffly.

"Your employers," Goren echoed. "So it wasn't all sweetness and light?"

"They lived a different life than us, okay?" Sam answered for his mother. His tone was bitter. "Privileged."

"They got on fine," Gala cut a glance at her son. "And treated us well."

"Well, we just need a couple things from you both," Alex said, pretending to be slightly distracted. "There are some unidentified fingerprints in the Richmans' apartment, and DNA. You know how it is with these families, they have help in for _**everything**_," she rolled her eyes. "We've asked everyone that lives or works in the building for a sample, just for elimination purposes."

Mother and son exchanged a look, "That's fine," Ms Dimitri said after a pause. "Whatever we can do to help."

"This won't take but a minute," Alex assured them. "If you would read and sign these consents that you are submitting voluntarily, then we can get you taken care of." After a careful read, Gala and Sam signed the documents. The detectives took them downstairs to be fingerprinted, and then swabbed for DNA.

Meanwhile, Immigration had the 411 on their passports. They were scheduled to leave LaGuardia on the day of the murders, at 1:40 PM on a two-legged flight to Athens. According to the airline, the flight left about an hour late, at 2:32 PM. The Dimitris had re entered the country this morning at 9:20.

Mike Cutter and Claire Kincaid McCoy were the riding ADA's on the case, and they, along with Chief Moran, Captain Hannah, and one of the agents from INS had gathered in the war room.

"Shit, that doesn't give them a whole lot of time to commit the murders, get to the airport and clearance on an international flight, especially on a Sunday." Cutter scanned the documents.

"But with a little luck and a lot of planning, they could have done it," Claire argued. "Why was there a delay?"

The immigration agent, Andrew Pauling, had that answer, "Computer glitch. Something about the electronic boarding passes."

"That little bastard is a computer science major," Mike groaned.

Once they were done with the fingerprinting, Bobby waved Ms Dimitri aside, "Just a couple things came up when we were looking at your background information. Would you mind answering a couple more questions?"

He caught her glance towards where her son was wiping his fingers. "I know there are some things you might not want your son to hear," Bobby lowered his voice apologetically. When he saw her hesitate, he assured her, "Detective Eames will look out for him, I promise."

She nodded and spoke to her son, "Sam, I need to answer a couple more questions."  
>The young man blanched, "But..."<p>

Alex patted his arm, "C'mon, we'll get a soda," she coaxed.

By tacit agreement, Bobby took Gala into one interrogation room, while Alex took Sam into another. Chief Moran and ADA Mike Cutter were observing Goren's interview, Captain Hannah and ADA Claire Kincaid McCoy were watching Eames' interrogation.

Bobby began by informing Ms Danton/Dimitri of her rights, "I really hate to do this, but the suits want all the technical sh- stuff covered," he said regretfully, turning on the full Goren charm. "Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" he finished.

"Yes," she hissed, her demeanor stone cold, as she signed the Miranda.

"Are you answering these questions freely, Ms Danton?" He was solicitous.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a read on him. Deciding he was just another bumbling civil servant, she softened a bit. "I'd be happy to answer your questions."

"Good," he nodded. "Uh, when was the last time your were in the Richman residence?"

"Friday, two days before we left on holiday," she answered promptly.

"Anything unusual happen that day, calls, visitors...family drama?" Bobby asked.

She paused, as if trying to remember, "Mrs Richman had a doctor's appointment that morning, and their sitter canceled. Mr Richman wanted to go with her, so I offered to watch the children."

"That was nice of you," he observed. "Did you do that often, help out with the children?"

"No, not often," she denied.

"All that money, and they didn't have a nanny?" he was incredulous.

"Mrs Richman preferred to be a hands-on parent," she was curiously devoid of expression.

"Guess that's all on that. Um...we found a- an anomaly in your paperwork," he rifled through his binder. "Ah, here it is. Your current passport and drivers license says your name is Theresa Danton, but your naturalization papers list you as...Galatea Dimitri," he mused.

"I became a citizen in 1989, under my maiden name. Galatea Theresa Dimitri. I took my husband's last name when I married in 1991," she shrugged.

"And you took your middle name as your first name." Goren queried. "Why was that?"

"I-um, had some issues with my credit," she said smoothly. "Is that relevant?"

"We just need background on any potential witnesses, for any future trials," he explained.

"Trial?" she was nervous. "Do you have any suspects?"

Bobby shrugged, "You were explaining your name change."

"It takes a lot of time and money to change your name on my citizenship papers. By the time I got around to it, I was divorced." she rolled her eyes.

Bobby played the sympathetic police officer to the hilt, "I'm sorry. Is Sam's dad involved in his life?"

Her voice was cold, "He's dead."

He feigned shock, "What a shame! Were you married long?"  
>"A couple years," Gala's expression closed in. "Which I'm sure you already know."<p>

"As a matter of fact, I do," Bobby tossed a document on the table with a flourish. "Decree of divorce, September 1993. Date of marriage, August 2, 1991. No community property to divide. And no children born of the marriage." He pulled another piece of paper. "This-is an affidavit from one Richard Danton, stating the minor child known as Samuel Nicholas Dimitri is not his biological child. You signed this as well, thus freeing him of any claim to the boy." His warm attitude vanished. "Samuel Nicholas Dimitri, your bastard son with a poor broke college kid named Samuel Richman." He flung out the third document, "Your son's birth certificate. The space indicating 'father?'" he spat. "Unknown."

"Samuel was a popular name at the time," she tried to blow it off.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "You knew that you just had to bide your time. Years. You were patient. The kid who just wanted to fuck a hot older woman was now rich, with a pretty little family. How'd you come at him? Poor immigrant woman, single mother, struggled all her life. Sam Richman was a soft touch. That much you remembered," his tone was contemptuous.

"_**You..." **_her temper exploded, and for a moment Bobby saw what the Richmans must have seen that morning.

In observation, Cutter was astounded at the flip, "Jesus Christ."

"Son of a bitch hasn't forgotten how to interrogate," Moran admitted reluctantly.

"She's gonna lawyer up in about two seconds," Mike muttered, reaching for his cell.

True to form, Gala did just that, "I want a lawyer, and I want to see my son!"

Goren threw up his hands, "You're entitled to legal representation, not to see your son." He slapped his binder shut, and stalked from the room.

Alex had decided to play to Sam Dimitri's 'crushing on an older woman.' She bought him a soda of his choice, as well as some chips before they headed into interrogation.

"Wow, you must be a little nervous about all this," Alex opened as they sat down.

"What do you mean?" he was wary.

"Well, here you were, coming back from this great vacation with your mom, only to find out this family you worked for is dead." She took a big gulp of her water, and chewed on a few skittles. "And then to have immigration cops pick you up, haul you down to be fingerprinted and asked a bunch of questions...When I was twenty, I'd have been scared shitless."

"I don't have anything to be scared of," he countered, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's a relief," she smiled. "Don't want to stress you out."

"The only things that stress me out are advanced calculus and the bullshit you have to go through with the TSA," he cracked a grin. "At least getting hauled downtown got us to the head of the line today. Thanks."

Alex strove to keep her expression neutral, while revulsion bubbled inside, "Guess that's one way to look at it." She rifled through the folder in front of her, "Oh, shoot. I forgot I need to read this to you and have you sign it." She cast a flirtatious glance at him. "Must be the age thing."

"You don't look that old," Sam was staring at her cleavage, not paying particular attention to her words. "What are you, thirty-five?"

She laughed, "Oh, you_** are**_ a sweetheart. Your parents raised you well."

Sam leaned forward, "My mom raised me," he said earnestly.

"Your dad around?" she wondered.

"You mean the sperm donor?" Sam said sarcastically. "Naw, he's dead."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "That must be hard."

He shrugged, "Don't miss what you never had. Anyway, my mom is the _**best**_. She's worked hard all her life, so I can have opportunities she didn't."

"You're an only child?" she inquired.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Bet the girls flocking around you makes your mom crazy," Alex speculated with a grin.

"Aw, I'm too busy for girlfriends," he blushed a little.

"Too bad, 'cause I think they'd love a sweet guy like you," she purred. "Um, back to this," Alex indicated the Miranda form. "Before we visit any more, I have to go over your rights."

Sam looked stricken, "Wha-what?"

"Oh, it's just for your protection," she said carelessly. The detective read the information aloud and offered him a pen. "Any questions?"

"Um, no, I-uh, don't think so," he paused.

"You know, Sam, if you want a minute to think or call a lawyer, I'd understand," she said.

"C-Can I talk to my mom?" he asked.

"Um, no, since you're an adult, unless she's a lawyer..." Alex replied regretfully.

"I don't have anything to hide," he signed the form with a flourish.

"Good," she nodded. "I have to ask about something you said earlier. You said you worked for building maintenance, not the Richmans specifically. Have you ever been in the Richmans' apartment?"

"Well, _**yeah**_," he looked at her as if she wasn't too bright. "My mom works-worked for them, so I'd come pick her up, or do repairs and shit that my job required."

"Okay," Alex appeared to be looking at a checklist. "Do you remember the last time you were there?" She felt rather than saw him jump.

"Uh, Friday, I guess. The day before we left on our trip," he said carefully.

"Friday the 17th?" she clarified.

"Yeah," Sam assented.

"You left for Greece on Saturday?" she inquired.

"Uh huh," he seemed bored.

"So you could 'celebrate turning twenty in your motherland'," she suddenly became very specific.

"That's right," he grimaced.

She whipped out a document and slapped it on the table, "According to this, your birthday is Sunday, June 19th. You didn't arrive in Athens until Monday, June 20th. Neat trick, having your birthday on two different days."

"Is that a question?" he asked belligerently.

"Just a fact," she threw down the copies of his passport stamp and boarding pass.

"I want a lawyer, you bitch!" he yelled.

"With pleasure," Alex picked up the paperwork and exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

Bobby walked into the observation room, looking askance at the ADA and the chief of D's. "Well?"

Cutter snapped his cell closed, "Waiting on warrants," he commented.

"What about the kid?" Bobby asked, as Claire walked into the room.

"He stepped in it with his alibi. Lying is circumstantial, but enough to hold him," she said.

Captain Hannah, Chief Moran, the ADAs and the two lead detectives watched as the Dimitris were led to holding.

Alex let out a breath, "Thank God."

"Don't celebrate yet," Cutter warned. "Now the real work begins."

"At least their wings are clipped," Hannah said sardonically.

"We'll arraign them in the morning," Claire said.

"Think the judge will grant them bail?" Bobby wondered.

"High profile case, public outrage," Cutter said. "Hope to hell not."

Claire stopped by Alex's desk before she left. "Hey, don't we have something to celebrate this week?" she joked.

Alex made a wry face, "Right."

"Girls night out, Alex," the prosecutor laughed. "you name the day and the place, I'll get the gang together."

She looked over at Bobby's empty chair, "Uh, what about Thursday?"

Claire gave her a puzzled look, "Yeah, that's fine. Alex?"

"Um hmm?" she was fussing with her new bracelet.

Claire pulled up a chair, "Okay, spill it. What's up?"

"What? It's nothing, just this case," she waved a hand. "And um, I was out pretty late last night."

"As in 'out on a date' late?" Claire squealed.

"Shh!" Alex cast a furtive glance about the vicinity.

"So, why the secrecy?" her friend prodded.

Alex sighed, "Can't talk about it here."

Bobby returned to his desk, "Counselor," he acknowledged her with a smile.

Claire's glance went from the bracelet to the rose on her desk, and then her friend blushing. Oh. Oh. "Oh!" she got it.

"Amarok, six thirty Thursday, okay?" Alex decided. "I'll round up the usual suspects."

"See you then," Claire hoisted her briefcase up and leaded for the elevators.

"Girls night out," Alex told her partner, by way of explanation.

"Yeah," he grinned.

"Enjoying yourself?" she snarked.

"Immensely," he chuckled, rolling his chair next to hers. "Like seeing you blush."

"Is this part of the courtship thing?" she teased.

Their voices were low; for all anyone in the bullpen could tell, they were discussing the latest wrinkle in their caseload. "Could be," he replied.

Their little huddle was interrupted by their captain, "Goren, Eames, warrants are up!"

"No rest for the wicked," Alex commented as they headed for the SUV.

Bobby groaned, "Sometimes I hate us being the A team."

"Nice to be loved," she snarked, firing up the engine.

"Right," he agreed, then smiled. "Guess we won't get to the third date thing today, will we?"

"Not even a second date," she sighed. "More like takeout Chinese in the bullpen."

They badged the uniforms at the scene, and walked up three flights to the apartment in question. Mike Cutter was there representing the DA's office, while the Dimitris' public defenders, were there for their clients. Techs were collecting evidence, testing for potential blood evidence in the sinks, bath, drain traps.

"Nice place," Alex commented, looking around the bright apartment.

"She made it a home for the kid," Bobby agreed.

"Not enough for her, though," Alex was logged on the PC in Galatea's bedroom "She is meticulous in tracking every dime that went in and out." she touched the scanning electronic organizer next to the computer. "Hmm, banking records, tax returns..." she pointed to a deduction on last year's return. "Safe deposit box rental, Bobby."

"Good place to hide something from your computer geek kid," he agreed, getting up to search for a key.

TARU was there to seize the unit, "The kid had the laptop on him when they brought him in, we're combing that right now."

The team searched the apartment thoroughly. No bloody clothes, or evidence of a murder weapon. The keys on the Dmitri family key chains were all accounted for: the apartment, a storage closet in the basement, the family car, a 2001 Mazda Protege. The safe deposit box key was found secreted beneath Gala's nightstand.

"It's what we're not seeing that's important," Bobby fingered the two key-chains. "They should have keys to the Richmans' apartment, to the building...if the kid was on the maintenance staff, those guys usually have their own set."

"Maybe they left them in the car?" Alex pondered, glancing out the window, "It's being impounded as we speak."

"But did they use the car that day?" he wondered.

"Would have been faster for them to drive themselves, and they wouldn't have the paper trail of a cab or MTA," Alex considered.

"Assuming the car stayed in its usual spot while they were in Greece," Bobby theorized. "The car was too old to have GPS. It would have been a risk to find a place to park near the bank," Alex began, then snapped her fingers. "They didn't park."

"She drove, dropped him off near the bank..."Bobby finished her sentence.

"He shot Richman, then he jogged to a pre-arranged drop," she nodded. "But Stella and the kids were killed first."

"Maybe...maybe they parked away from the building, watched him leave," Bobby pondered.

"With Sonny's access to the building, it would have been easy to slip in the back way or through a service entrance," Alex continued.

"It was Sunday morning, people sleeping in, or gone off to the Hamptons, so there wouldn't be a lot of witnesses around," he said.

"And even if someone _**did**_ see them, it wouldn't raise an alarm, because they worked there," Alex agreed.

"But they took care _**not **_to be seen, because they wanted to give the illusion they were already out of the country," Bobby was certain.

They took one last look around, "It's after five, too late to get access to that safe deposit box," Bobby fretted.

Cutter overheard, "We have someone on it right now, the stuff will be at One PP before you are."

They got into the SUV and headed back to the office. "Chinese?" he queried.

"Uh huh," she steered into rush hour traffic. "Damn it!" someone tried to cut her off.

"Hey, Alex," he said quietly, "Let's get a drink later. I-uh-want to continue our conversation from this morning."

She stopped at a red light, looked at him sideways, "Wish we could go right now," she sighed.

Bobby reached over and squeezed her hand, his smile tender. "Sorry you're having a shitty birthday."

She put the car in gear and inched forward, "It's not, really." She smiled, "It started out really well, as a matter of fact."

Over piles of takeout Chinese, they sorted through the contents of the safe deposit box. "Ah, hah! Flash drive!" Ira said triumphantly, plugging into the nearest terminal.

"Put it up on the big screen," Captain Hannah directed. "What the hell is this?"

"Holy shit! Look at this: she documented every single expense from the time she was pregnant with Samuel." Alex let out a low whistle.

"She kept the receipts?" Bobby was incredulous.

"Uh-huh," his partner nodded. "My guess is she kept them, over the years, until she could scan them into something like this," she picked up the scanning device bagged from the scene. "Then she hid it in a file...labeled, oh, jeez, 'dream house plans'."

"So what are the odds the computer genius kid knew about this?" he chewed over that thought.

Ira shook his head, "My guess, she didn't want him to know. She was the only signatory on the box."

"So it goes back to the money," Alex speared a dumpling with a chopstick. "She doesn't love that kid at all."

"Maybe, maybe not," Bobby mused. "But think about this: Richman has been well-off for many years. Why wait til now?"

"And why involve her son?" Joe Hannah puzzled.

"Revenge," Ira turned to Sam Dimitri's laptop. "He's got tons of articles saved on Samuel Richman over the years, from the time his mother met him in college, until the present."

"She poisoned him, made him hate his father, then killed him and his family." Bobby rubbed a hand over his face.

"But why?" Alex pondered the question in the room. "All she'd have to do is get a DNA test, take it to Richman...and...they'd be set for life."

"Unless Richman knew and refused to pay," Joe reminded her.

"Not likely," Bobby shook his head."Everything we've ever heard about Samuel Richman is that he was a stand up guy. Family, friends, business associates, even clients he couldn't help...no one had a bad thing to say about him."

While they took a late dinner break at their desks, she sent a group email for girls night out. Resa Panotti was an old friend from Vice, now on the anti-corruption task force. Sandy Immel was an ER nurse that was a neighbor back when Alex was married to Joe. Carrie Martin was a friend from junior high. The women were close in age, from diverse backgrounds, and had gathered for a chat-fest at least every other month for about ten years.

Alex listened to the messages on her phone. Lots of birthday wishes from her family, and a cute video clip of Nate singing happy birthday, "Aw, too bad it's too late to call him back," she smiled, holding the screen so Bobby could see.

When they walked out of the squad room at midnight, they were no closer to a certain motive.

"Can I get a rain check on the drink?" she yawned.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Pretty long day."

"With a long week to come," she groaned, hefting her purse to her shoulder.

He pushed the "down" button, "Call me when you get home?"

"Sure," she stifled a yawn.

"You okay to drive?" he asked.

"Diet coke, my friend," she grinned.

After their phone check, the detectives found sleep came a lot easier.

Long week was the understatement of the century, they decided as Wednesday faded into Thursday. The Dimitris were in jail, courtesy of the high bail mandated by the judge. The warrants unearthed a whole new pile of evidence to be reviewed, cataloged and tested. The Dimitris' car was void of any obvious evidence. No blood noted, DNA was pending. The previously unidentified fingerprints in the Richman residence indeed belonged to Gala and Samuel Dimitri. Between the new evidence, dealing with the victims' families, and the media feeding frenzy, there was scarcely time to breathe, let alone have a second date.

All of Major Case was treated to catered Italian food for lunch Thursday courtesy of the Chief of D's. Joe Hannah, Ira, Alex, Bobby, Detectives Rich and Daniels,were in the war room, looking over the evidence gathered thus far between bites.

"You gotta admit, Moran has good taste," Ira was slurping spaghetti.

Alex rolled her eyes, "If we lose this case, he'll expect to be reimbursed for this."

Everyone in the room laughed, knowing Bobby and Alex's history with Moran.

Bobby and Alex managed a few quiet moments in the conference room late in the day,

"Here's some coffee," she handed him a cup.

"Thanks," he took a sip. "So, girls night out tonight."  
>"Oh, man, I almost forgot," she groaned. "Really shouldn't, there's plenty of work to do here."<p>

"Aw, c'mon, the work will be here tomorrow," Bobby waved a hand.

"I'll go on one condition," she poked a finger at his chest. "You get out of here, too. Go grab a beer with Lewis."

"I will," he nodded.

"Gimme your phone, I want to make sure," she playfully grabbed at his jacket pocket.

Grinning triumphantly, she scrolled through his contacts until she found Lewis, "Hey, Lewis, it's Alex Eames. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." she laughed. "No, he's fine too. Listen, I need you to do me a really big favor."

Bobby chuckled at her dismayed expression.

"No, not that kind of favor," she rolled her eyes. "Take Bobby out for some beers and those greasy burgers you guys like tonight. No, I'm not coming along. I already have plans."

Bobby extended his hand, taking the phone from her, "Yeah, I'm here."

Lewis was laughing his ass off, "The little woman in charge of your social calendar?"

"She's trying to make sure I don't stay at work half the night," Bobby said reprovingly. "So are we on?" Lewis asked.

"Yeah," Bobby glanced at the clock. "'Bout seven at Williams Burger?" He hung up and looked over at his partner, "Happy now?"

"Yes, I am," she grinned. "See you in the morning."

Alex arrived at Amarok about quarter to seven.

Claire waved her over, "You're behind a round, girlfriend!"

"How did you leave work before me? Aren't you in charge of the same case we are?" Alex sat down and ordered a vodka martini, double.

"Yes, but I sleep with the boss," Claire laughed.

"Where's everyone else?"Alex looked around.

"I told them seven, so I can get the dirt on your new love," her friend admitted.

"What if I'm not ready to share the details?" Alex hedged, taking a long drink.

"Oh, come on. I know who he is, Alex," she scoffed. "And I also know that some our friends work for the PD, and may not..."

"Approve?" Alex slammed back the rest of her drink.

"Hey, I know all about workplace entanglements, remember? And I am happy for you. For _**both **_of you," Claire was sober. "It's been a long miserable several years. That you can find happiness with Bobby..." she signaled for another round. "People didn't give Jack and me 15 minutes, let alone 15 years and three kids."

"Thanks," Alex smiled. "The PD...well, you know the issues. It feels...not like we're keeping a secret. It's private, and an...adjustment, for both of us."

"You've loved him for a long time, that's one of the worst kept secrets of the sisterhood," Claire laughed. She spied the rest of their friends moving towards them. "Hey, over here!"

The rest of the evening was spent discussing significant others, kids and family gripes. Alex even described her date, without mentioning a name.

"That was your first date?" Resa was incredulous. "Girl, you'd better hold on to this one."  
>"Oh, I intend to," Alex grinned.<p>

"What's his name?" Sandy wanted to know. "And does he have a brother?"

"Sandy, you're on the rebound," Carrie scolded. "Give it a rest."

"Hey, I'm ready to climb back in the saddle," she said saucily.

Ten thirty rolled around, and Claire had an unexpected escort home. "Ladies," Jack McCoy leaned over the back of her chair and kissed his wife.

"Is it past her curfew?" Sandy inquired. Jack and Claire freely joked about their age difference, and took no offense when their friends gave them crap.

"Only if she wants it to be," he grinned. "I just thought, no kids in the house..."

"Thank God for summer camp and sleepovers," Claire got to her feet.

"Oh, sure, rub it in," the others laughed.

Friday was another interminable day. Paperwork, phone calls, evidence cataloging.

"Anyone who says this job is thrilling is full of shit," Bobby groaned.

"Amen to that," Alex agreed. She picked up her cell, "Damn."

"What?" he asked.

"I am sentenced to a wedding planning party with Ashley tomorrow," she grumbled. "Girl is turning into a real bridezilla."

"And I'm helping Lewis in the shop tomorrow," he sighed.

They looked glumly at each other across their desks. "Guess the second date thing is shot," he muttered.

"What about Sunday?" she wondered.

"Um, have an appointment with Gyson in the morning," he said.

"Oh, yeah," she sighed. "And we're on call."

"We can hope nobody kills each other," he smiled.

"Um, hmm," she grinned back.

He slid his chair next to hers, "Th-there's a jazz festival on Roosevelt Island Sunday afternoon."

"Sound like fun," she said softly. "Call me after you're done Sunday. I'll be over at Dad's in the morning, if we don't get a call out."

"It's a date," Bobby whispered.

She tried to be a good sport Saturday, listening to Ashley and Maeve drone on about all the minutiae of a big Catholic wedding. Liz was there, along with her sisters in law Melanie, Jessica and Darla. Add that to the groom's mother and two sisters, and it made for an interesting day. Alex idly wondered if she'd need to invoke her badge and gun to restore peace a couple times. No such luck. She dropped into her bed by eleven that night, swearing that if she ever got married again, City Hall would be the best venue.

Bobby had a more enjoyable day than his partner, helping Lewis work on the F85. Sure, it was tedious, but it was a good kind of tedium. The end result would be, hopefully, a fully restored profitable vehicle. Lots of trash talk, a few beers and a few smokes. A couple of their high school buddies had shown up as well, so the party lasted well into the night.

Sunday morning, Alex went for a long run, then headed over to Inwood to check on her dad. She knew that if they got a call out that morning, she would be the one to take it. Bobby's sessions with Gyson were important, and she felt strongly protective of his quest to get better.

Dr Gyson noticed her patient was a bit calmer than at their last session. "We've had a bit of a break," she commented.

"Yes," Bobby assented. "Did you enjoy your time with your family?"

"Very much," she nodded. "How about you? Any progress on the assignment I gave you?"  
>He chuckled, "What was that? Picnics, little league, and beers with a friend. No picnic or ball games, but I did get together with some old friends."<p>

"Tell me about that," she requested.

"Well, my friend Lewis, the-the one who fixes cars-he's restoring this F 85. It's pretty bare bones right now, but with potential. I've been helping with that. A couple of guys we went to school with, and Lewis' brother Tom...we worked pretty hard on it yesterday."

"You enjoy that kind of work," she commented.

"Uh-huh," he leaned forward, intense. "It's like this great big puzzle, and I've always loved puzzles. You know, manipulating the pieces, seeing where they fit."

"Something that makes you good at your job," the doctor remarked.

Bobby took a drink of water, "I guess so. But with a car...it's not life and death. Not like what we deal with on the job."

"Go on," she prodded.

"This week, we made an arrest in this murder case," his expression darkened. "And while we have evidence, we're still struggling with the 'why'."

"The motives behind criminals actions...that can be a difficult puzzle to solve," she said.

Bobby scrubbed at his face, "But to me, it's important to know the why. And why I have the drawbridge to-to enable me to sleep at night."

"How _**are**_ you sleeping?" Gyson wondered.

"Uh, pretty well," he laughed wryly. "But twelve to sixteen hour days will do that to you."

"Remember what we discussed about finding a balance," she cautioned.

"I-uh, have," he replied. "I've been out with friends, worked on that car. My partner...Alex and I have tried to take breaks away for lunch. Not a picnic," he joked. "But getting out of the office, rather than eating at our desks."

The therapist noted his loss of eye contact when he talked about Alex, "You spoke of her...reaction to this case in our last session. How is she handling it?"

"She's, um, finding a balance. She has a big family, and they understand cop culture. She's always been better at separating the work and life thing," he directed his gaze out the window. He sure as hell wasn't ready to talk about their first date.

"What you just did," Dr Gyson called him on it. "Your lack of eye contact when I asked about your partner."

"I-um, I'm uncomfortable talking with you about her. Like I'm betraying her trust," Bobby admitted.

"Are you? Betraying her trust?" she pressed.

"What? No!" but his tone was uncertain.

"You let me know that you admire and respect her, but you've never answered the other question," she pushed harder.

"How...what we feel for each other...is between us," he said abruptly, jumping out of his chair to pace the room.

"She's a private person," Gyson clarified.

"Yes, she is," Bobby said vehemently, waving his arms.

"But, detective, it's not about a big declaration to me or even to her. You have to acknowledge those feelings for your _**own**_ benefit," she said emphatically.

He whirled around to face her, his expression intense, "I love her. Happy now?"

"The question is, are you?" Gyson's tone was just as intense.

Bobby stopped in his tracks. _**That**_ was the question. Was he happy?

When he didn't answer, she took a deep breath. "I think we've come to a good stopping point. Should we pick this up, uh, next week?"

He stared at her a moment, trying to process. "Yeah," he managed.

Bobby walked out of the office, and pulled out his phone, "Hey," he said in response to Alex's breathless "Hello!"

"Did I catch you in the middle of something?" he wondered.

"Changing clothes. We just got a call out, west 57th," she replied. "Want me to pick you up?"

"Goddamn-it to hell," he cursed silently. "Yeah, I'm outside of Gyson's office." So much for a peaceful Sunday date.

"Some muckety-muck who worked for the mayor," Alex informed him as he got in the SUV. "She went over to her daughter's apartment this morning and found her dead."

"Suspects?" he asked.

"Meth head boyfriend," she snarked. "Whoever it is, they just fucked up our Sunday."

He couldn't help laughing, "Isn't that my line?"

She cast him a rueful grin, "You're rubbing off on me."

They spent the better part of the day clearing the scene, then heading back to the office to book the suspect. True to Eames' snarky prediction, the boyfriend confessed. He was a coke-head, rather than a meth head, but still...

"Want to go for a drink?" Bobby asked as he clicked send on their last report.

Alex glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Their pizza dinner was just a few hours behind them, and tomorrow was another busy work day.

"Mind if we just go to your place?" Alex suggested.

Bobby gave her a look as they got into the elevator.

"Not to jump your bones," she grinned. "Yet. It's just closer than mine, and I kinda like the back terrace."

"More privacy for... conversation," he agreed as they walked into the sticky darkness of the parking garage.

She handed him the keys to her Malibu and relaxed into the passenger seat.

He found a parking space not far from his apartment. Just as they cleared the door, thunder crashed and the sky opened up.

"Guess you'll have to settle for the couch," he teased, grabbing a pair of wineglasses and a bottle of Barbaresco.

"Hmm, I'll take it," she grinned, snuggling into one corner.

"So, you didn't answer my question," Bobby reminded as he poured the wine.

"About what?" she said lazily, kicking off her shoes.

"The courtship thing," he handed her a glass and sat next to her.

"If you want to, um, _**court me**_, I guess I can live with that," she wore a baffled look as she sipped her wine. "This is really good," her eyes drifted closed.

He managed to crack a smile, "But?" he took a hefty sip.

Alex sighed, "We're not kids anymore, Bobby; we've been friends for a long time. What I'm trying to say is while I _**love**_ the seduction, I don't _**need**_ it."

"But _**I**_ do," he took a deep breath, and put his arm around her, ran his fingers through her hair. "Alex, everything I feel for you is tangled up in how much I treasure you, respect you...I love you."

Her eyes opened wide, "I love you too, Bobby." She stroked his stubbled cheek. "But I don't think that's news to you."

He pressed his lips into her palm, "No, it's not."

Alex set her wineglass down and deliberately pulled his face to hers, "I know it's a big step for you to tell me...how you feel."

"Yeah," his mouth was now firmly against hers, his teeth nibbling lightly on her lower lip. "You..are...the best thing...in my life," he whispered hoarsely.

"And you're mine," she crawled into his lap, her fingers tangled in his hair. Mouths open, tongues tangoing...

"Could get used to this soo easily," he murmured, his lips sliding to the tender spot behind her left ear, one hand cupping her breast through her blouse.

She arched her back, whimpering, "Hmm, Bobby...yes...like that."

"Alex...we have to stop," he groaned.

"I'll stop when you do," she shifted enough that she was straddling his lap. Thunder clapped and they startled. The shift of her hips made them both moan.

Bobby's left hand moved between them, ever lower, rubbing the seam of her slacks, while his right was plucking at her breast, "Hmm, baby...feel good?"

"Yeah," she gasped as he probed deeper. "Um, is this part of the-the courting?" Alex felt her concentration slipping. Even through two layers of cloth his fingers were...so...deft.

He felt her shudder a little, the dampness seeping through to his fingertips, "We're just having a little fun...for a little...longer," his breathing was heavy as his groin tightened.

"So close," Alex panted, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

"Let go, baby, let go," he rasped, looking into her eyes. One stroke, two...three...

"Oh, God, yes, ohhh," the orgasm washed over her and she melted into him, trembling.

He held her close, stroking her damp hair, trying to ignore his raging hard on. "Shh, honey, it's okay..." he whispered.

"No, it's not," she finally could squeak out the words, "because..." She reached between them, firmly cupping him.

"Don't have to..." he tried to move her hand, but she batted him away.

Her expression was both tender and devilish, "I want to court you, too, sweetheart." She kissed him rapaciously, while her small hands squeezed, stroked, caressed him through his pants.

"Tell me if this is how you like it," she whispered.

Bobby pressed his head back into the cushions, his eyes closed, "Ahhh, yeah..."

"Faster?" she felt him jerk in her hand.

"Uh huh," he gasped...before he could get another breath, he came.

She continued to rub gently, murmuring endearments in his ear as he softened under her touch. "If this is how you court a girl, I think I can live with it." she giggled.

Bobby's voice was ragged, "You're pretty good at this courting thing yourself." he kissed her tenderly.

"Could stay like this forever," she snuggled into him sleepily.  
>"You sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch," he offered.<p>

"It's your house," she scowled. "I'll take the couch."

"I could fall asleep right here," he yawned.

"Or we could both sleep in the bed," Alex smiled. "I am so tired and, um, satisfied...just wanna sleep."

"You're too big a temptation," he chuckled, giving her one final kiss before lifting her off him.

"Then can I have a blanket and something to sleep in?" she yawned.

Bobby returned with clean bedding and an old t shirt, to find his partner soundly asleep. He shook his head and carefully tucked the blanket around her, then after a stop in the bathroom to undress, crawled into his own bed. Tonight, he had no trouble sleeping.

Alex woke around seven, momentarily disoriented. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, memory came rushing back. She stretched, then got up to use the bathroom. It could have been just a dream, she thought, save for the tender feeling between her legs. Alex she lifted her hair and shivered, remembering the feel of his unshaven face buried in her neck, the liquid ecstasy of his touch. How he shuddered against her as she pleasured him. She walked into his bedroom, relieved to see him sleeping soundly. Resisting the urge to wake him she decided a thank you was in order. She smiled at her handiwork as she headed back to Forest Hills to shower and get ready for work.

Bobby's alarm woke him at seven thirty. He rolled over and noticed his suit thrown in a heap at the foot of his bed. Oh, yeah. His brain unfogged and he stumbled into the living room. The nearly empty wineglasses still sat on the coffee table, and the blanket was neatly folded on the end of the couch. He felt an odd sense of disappointment until he saw the note on his bathroom mirror. Written in her favorite shade of lipstick, mocha, he recognized his partner's flowing hand. "You can court me anytime, Bobby. Love, Alex." The kicker? The "kiss" she pressed in the corner of the mirror.

_**Oh, my! I had the **_most_** difficult time whipping this chapter into shape.**_ _**Trying to move the case along, get Bobby's recovery kicked into gear, and get these two to admit that the real solution to everything is...each other. Sigh. Did I help? Hurt? Any and all suggestions are welcome. Review, and another chapter shall appear.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you, thank you for the nice words! Sorry it's taking so long to update. Work is so inconvenient to writing fanfic :) I've had a blast with this so far, trying to stay on canon, giving the relationship attention, too. Been enjoying the LOCI marathon on Sleuth; right now "One" is playing. Interesting how their partnership and relationship evolved over the years. Okay, back to 2011. Thinking that maybe Bobby will have a little angst thing going, from his old behavior patterns. We are going to see some dates, therapy, case file, and...another smutty make out session. It's rated M for a reason. I don't own a damn thing, just borrowing them for a bit. **_

"Good morning to you," Alex smiled as Bobby strode into the squad room about fifteen minutes after her. "I brought you breakfast," she indicated the coffee and doughnuts on his desk.

"That's sweet, thanks," he grinned back.

"Sleep well last night?" she inquired innocently.

Bobby took a gulp of his coffee and bit into a doughnut, ""Best sleep I've had in a long time."

"Me, too," she agreed, propping her elbows on her desk. "Might have to try some of that Barbaresco again."

"Incredible vintage," he commented.

"Got the reviews for it?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"First thing," he replied. "Inventive-um-way of communicating."

"Using what was at hand," Alex mused, sipping her coffee.

Hannah strolled from his office, "Good morning, detectives. Have a nice weekend?"

"What there was of it," Alex snarked.

"The price of on call," he pulled up a chair. "The mayor sends his thanks on a quick resolution to the case."

"The cost of political influence," Bobby retorted.

Alex frowned and shook her head the least little bit at her partner.

"Hear there's some evidence coming down today in the Richman case," Joe changed the subject.

They looked over at him sharply, "What kind of evidence?" asked in unison.

"Christ, that is freakish how you do that," he scowled in mock dismay. "According to Josh and Ira, more paper trail."

"When?" Bobby asked.

"Uh, we're meeting with the ADA's about eleven," he squinted at his watch.

"Wonder if trace has anything yet," Alex mused, reaching for the phone. "Dr Rodgers, please."

Elizabeth picked up the extension, sounding a bit annoyed, "Yes, Alex?"

"Just wondering if there's anything new back on the Richman case?" the detective inquired.

"You'd be the first to know, I assure you," the ME sighed.

"Some stuff is coming down from the tech end, and we have a meeting with the DA's office later this morning," she explained.

"Aw, yeah, the suits," Rodgers said sarcastically. "If anything turns up, I'll let you know."  
>"Okay," Alex agreed, hanging up. "Nothin'"<p>

They were just clearing the door of the DA's office when Alex's cell rang, "Eames."

"Just got some of the DNA comps," Rodgers said.

"Is this going to be good news?" she was wary.

"Depends," she said laconically. "Samuel Dimitri is _**not**_ Samuel Richman's biological son."

Alex dropped her phone, with her partner handing it back, "You're shitting me," she managed to groan.

"Nope, 99.99996% probability," Elizabeth noted. "Want me to fax you the results?"

"Uh, yeah. We're at the DA's office," they walked into Cutter's office. "What's your fax number?" She asked the attorney.

Mike rattled off the number, looking askance as she repeated it to Elizabeth.

"DNA results," she explained to the group assembled after she clicked her phone off.

"We're meeting in the conference room down the hall," Claire led the way. "And Jack is joining us."

"Captain, detectives, gentlemen," Jack greeted Joe, Bobby Alex, Ira and Josh. They took seats at the large table. "I understand you have some new information on the Richman case."

Ira nodded, "We found documents on Ms Dimitri's computer, from Paternity Finder. The ones of most interest," he clicked on the power point, "Were these. The first, dated 3/17/2011, is a request for DNA testing. According to the application, two buccal swabs were submitted for testing. As you can see, the person requesting the test is one Theresa Danton in re: Samuel N. Dimitri. The potential father is identified as Samuel M. Richman. The second," he clicked again. "The money order as payment for the test. And lastly, this letter on Paternity Finder letterhead addressed to Ms Danton with a copy to Samuel Dimitri, dated 3/25/211. It states that, according to the samples submitted, Samuel M. Richman _**is**_ the biological father of Samuel Dimitri, with a probability of 99.99996%."

"Son of a bitch," McCoy muttered. "You confirm this with this...Paternity Finder?"

"No, not yet," Josh said in a rush, "but wow, how's that for motive on a silver platter?"

Alex spoke up, passing the fax she received from the ME, "That theory just had a huge hole blown through it. Our ME determined that Sam Richman is _**not**_ the biological father of Sam Dimitri, with the same probability."

Everyone's faces fell in disbelief. "Dr Rodgers is sure?" Cutter said incredulously.

"Yep," Alex nodded.

"Looks like we need to authenticate the documents with Paternity Finder," Captain Hannah surmised.

"Did we find the original documents yet?" Bobby wondered.

"Not yet," Ira was chagrined. "Looked like this was a smoking gun."

"May still be," Claire commented. "If she faked that results letter."

"But say it _**was**_ faked, and assuming Richman _**didn't**_ father the kid," Jack tossed out. "Why would she go to all that trouble to lie to her kid, and then kill that family?"

Mike Cutter added, "It's the twenty years thing that gets me. Why wait that long to exact revenge?"

"The murder on Sam Dimitri's birthday is not a coincidence," Alex protested. "You saw us interrogating them. They are _**guilty**_."

"Maybe they are," Jack conceded. "But we are not taking this to trial until we get a complete picture. They were smart, or lucky, and we have _**no**_ actual definitive evidence that connects them, just circumstantial."

"Yet," Bobby was confrontational. "Are you worried about your conviction rate?"

"I'm worried we'll end with the same kind of circus that we've been seeing in Orlando," Jack sniped back.

Captain Hannah tried to dial down the temperature, "Look, this is about justice for the victims, and not a pissing match. We'll keep digging, and work with your investigators, Mr. McCoy."

The district attorney nodded, "Thank you, Captain."

"I'm not done yet," Joe continued. "In return, I want you to treat my detectives with respect. They have been busting their asses, going above and beyond what the job requires. _**No one**_ wants this resolved more than they do."

Jack took a beat, "Understood."

The NYPD contingent left the office, solemn. In the elevator, Bobby was brooding and pissed-off. Ira and Alex wore pained expressions, and Josh...looked like someone had killed his dog.

"We'll get them, troops," Joe said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss," Alex said quietly.

Back at the office, they hit the phones and computers, hard. The DA's office had subpoenaed Paternity Finder, and their investigators were on their way to Maryland to interview them in person.

The war room was once again littered with Chinese food containers and empty coffee cups and water bottles.

"Wish we could take another run at the kid," Bobby scrubbed his face with his hands.

"He's the weak link in the chain," Alex agreed, leaning back in her chair, stretching her tired back. "But with this newest wrinkle..."

"I know how I'd do it," Bobby commented. "Use my-my own issues with-with an absent father."

"No," she grasped his wrist tightly. "No!"

He shook off her hand, "Might work."

"Bobby," she sighed. "It's-it would be a terrible minefield for you."

"Alex, I know," his expression softened. "I uh, really would like to talk to you about it, away from here."

"Um, dinner?" she suggested, a smile playing around her lips.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be asking _**you**_ out," he teased.

"Then hurry up and ask," she grinned, glancing at the clock. "Because I am _**hungry**_."

He threw back his head and laughed, "Detective Eames, would you do me the honor of being my dinner date tonight?"

"I would love that, Detective Goren," she chuckled at his lighter tone.

The captain heard their laughter as he was getting ready to leave for the night.

Bobby and Alex were at their desks, powering down their computers and putting their desks in order.

"Glad to see you're not staying here half the night," he complimented them.

"We_** do**_ have a life outside of this place," Alex said wryly, shooting Bobby a teasing glance.

"As it should be," Hannah was again struck by the vibe between the detectives. "See you in the morning."

"Night," they said as he headed for the elevator.

"_**We**_?" Bobby muttered, raised a brow.

Alex shrugged, "Don't think he got it."

"So, are you curious as to where we're going?" he asked they emerged onto the plaza.

"Oh, I trust your judgment completely," she grinned.

They strolled through the early evening crush, until they reached Harry's Cafe.

"Really?" she asked.

"Um hmm," he took her arm as they walked through to the grotto.  
>"You're spoiling me," she said seriously. They were sharing some lobster spring rolls.<p>

"No one more deserving," he reached under the table and took her hand.

"Aw," she smiled tenderly. "But it doesn't have to be like...fancy every date."

"Next time you'll make us sandwiches and we'll eat in Central Park," he teased.

"I might be even make a little potato salad to go with," she grinned as their entrees arrived: steak for him, chicken for her.

After dinner, they took a leisurely, circuitous route back to One PP. They stopped for Italian ices and found a park bench to just sit and talk. The heat of the day had dissipated in the velvet darkness after nine o'clock.

"About earlier," Alex began.

"Having another run at Sam Dimitri," he finished her thought.

"Bobby, I know you want justice, but I don't want it at the expense of..." she stopped.

"My sanity?" he laughed sardonically.

"You-you have come so far in your sessions with Dr Gyson," she took his hand in both of hers. "I-I just don't want to derail that."

"Alex, I've used my family...drama..before...to nail a perp," he explained. "This is no different."

"Yes, it is," she said. "Because before...you didn't know the truth of your parentage.."  
>"Brady," he acknowledged. "In some ways, I think I can use my...anger to get at this kid."<p>

"Have you...have you talked to Gyson about...Brady and your mom?" Alex asked.

"Not-not specifically," he said slowly. "Still have a hard time thinking of him as-as my father. My dad-uh, William Goren, is the man I still consider to be my father, in spite of a lab test...He's the one who was...in and out of my life, and some of who he was...has shaped who I am, for better or worse. Brady was just..."

"Someone who was in the room that night?" she suggested softly.

"Yeah," he sighed, tucking her head into his shoulder. "All it managed to do was explain how my mom and dad, even my brother...treated me."

"You...you have risen above it, all your life," her voice was tender, earnest. "And as much as I hate what...they did to you, if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have you, Bobby. And my life...without you, God, it would be so boring," she ended with a chuckle.

He put his arms around her and kissed her fiercely, "Thank you," he pressed his forehead to hers.

"For what?" she was surprised.

"For understanding, for being my safe place," he murmured into her hair. "Trust...is something I still have to work on. People in my past...like Gage..have betrayed it...but you never, ever have."

"Been royally pissed at you, and hurt..you..." she struggled with the words.

"You never turned your back on me, even when you might have been better off," Bobby said gently.

She breathed against his lips, "Even when I wanted to kick your ass, shake some sense into you, or rue the day I ever met you...there was no not having you in my life."

"I love you, Alex Eames," he resumed kissing her, more ardently this time.

"Love _**you**_," she returned his kisses full measure.

A teenaged couple walked by, taunting, "Look at the old people making out. Get a room!"

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Alex snarked at them, and turned her attention back to her partner.

Bobby chuckled into her neck, "Want to take this back to your place?"

"I'd love to," she sighed. "But..."  
>"I know, work in the morning," he buried his nose in her hair.<p>

"You said you wanted to, um, go slow and court me," she reminded.

Bobby groaned, "What the fuck was I thinking?"

"It's a good thing, really," she ran fingers through his short gray curls. "I'm-enjoying it."

"So, want to go to a movie tomorrow night?" he asked, tipping her face up to his.

"Two nights in a row?" she grinned.

"Well, if I keep waiting for our weekends to be free or people to quit killing each other..." he dangled the thought.

"Yes, I'd love to go to a movie with you," Alex said. "Have a specific one in mind?"

"No, you pick," he insisted.

"Let's see..something funny, or crude...brainless," she decided.

"It's a date," he laughed. Since they had both taken the train to work that morning, they parted at their respective stations.

Tuesday morning found them wading through more forensics, and a video conference in the captain's office with Dr Rodgers, as well as Jack McCoy, Claire Kincaid and Mike Cutter in the DA's office and the DA's investigators, Hector Salazar and Chris Ravell, who were still in Baltimore.

"Paternity Finder says they stand by their results, that the sample submitted matches as Sam Dimitri's biological father," Hector insisted.

"And with my known samples, that is absolutely _**not**_ the case. I ran the tests personally, twice," Elizabeth insisted, holding up the hard copy of her results.

"Unless..." Bobby pondered aloud. "Let's say that Paternity Finder is right. The sample they noted as belonging to Sam Richman doesn't actually have to _**be**_ Richman's."

Rodgers nodded, "Do they have the actual karyotype printout?"

"Uh, yes, right here," Chris said, rifling through documents.

"If you could fax those to me, I can tell you right now," the ME said excitedly.

While they were waiting, they discussed a game plan for their suspects.

"The more I think about this, the more I worry," Hannah had to admit. "We don't have clear cut DNA at the scene, we may not have a motive."

Alex and Bobby were holding their usual nearly telepathic conversation, "We need leverage to flip that kid," Alex insisted. "If we can offer proof that his mother lied to him..."

"He'd give her up," Bobby finished her thought.

"You need more than that," Jack insisted. "There are too many missing pieces."

The fax spit out the document from Baltimore. Rodgers jumped up and grabbed the page, comparing the it to the one in her hand. "The samples for the purported fathers are from two entirely different individuals."

"Well," Jack commented. "There goes your original theory."

Claire spoke up, "But it gives us another possibility, witness, or accomplice: Sam Dimitri's biological father."

"Whoever that is," Mike said sardonically.

"Look, we're no worse off than we were yesterday," Alex said practically. "We can re-interview people who knew Gala when she was pregnant. The people who employed her, the Mikos family, David Markham... her ex husband, for Chrissakes. And they can probably give us more leads."

"It'll take time," Jack reminded them.

"But we'll have the leverage to get them, and that's what we want, isn't it, Mr McCoy?" Bobby insisted.

Alex dragged Bobby to a nearby diner for lunch. A fair number of cops frequented the place, but they managed to finalize plans for their date that evening.

"I think we should go to this place for dinner," he extended his phone so she could see his choice. "It's not far from the Cineplex."

"I thought I was making sandwiches for us to eat in the park," she teased.

"With potato salad," he added. "That's for later this week."

"Really?" she asked.

"There's um, a concert in Battery Park Thursday night," he explained. "River and Blues."

"Sounds great," she grinned.

"What?" he asked.

"Third date tonight," she giggled.

"I know," he said. "Hey, what happened to letting me court you?"

"Just throwing it out there," Alex smirked.

"Uh-huh," Bobby chuckled. "So, what movie are we seeing?"

"Bad Teacher. Funny and superficial, which I think is just what we need after today," she took a drink of soda.

"Damn right," he agreed.

The remainder of their day was spent setting up witness interviews with David Markham, the Mikos', and tracking down Richard Danton. Stavros Mikos had passed away in 2000, but his wife survived him; she resided in an assisted living facility in Albany. Richard Danton was harder to track; they were working through credit records and his social security number.

At around four thirty, they did a conference call with David Markham. He was able to give them names of a few of their co workers at Maxine's, which Bobby and Alex planned to pass on to the DA's investigators. Markham also remembered Richard Danton vaguely. "He, uh, was a cook at the restaurant. As I recall, he was related to the owners, a cousin maybe?"

"Do you remember anything else about him?" Alex inquired.

"He was older, late forties. Very shy, he didn't say much," David commented. "You said he was the guy who married Gala?"

"Yes," Bobby answered.

"Surprised, because I don't think she'd given him the time of day," he recalled. "But then I wasn't exactly paying attention to shit like that."

They thanked him for his time, and then made plans to see Mrs. Mikos in person the following afternoon.

"Okay, that everything?" Bobby asked her about five thirty.

"Um, yeah," she lowered her voice. "Gonna perform a few miracles." She left for the ladies locker room. A quick scrubbing of her face, and pulling her hair out of the bun she'd had it in that day, she shimmied out of her slacks and blazer, and pulled on jeans, a lavender tank and purple t shirt. She put her boots back on. Makeup on fresh, and her long hair floating around her shoulders, she put one last touch of lipstick, a bit of perfume. Her bracelet glittered on her wrist. She smiled to herself. She had literally worn it every day since her birthday.

Bobby had gone to change into more casual attire as well; from the suit and tie to black jeans and navy t shirt, and sneakers. He decided to forgo the shave, just brushed his teeth and splashed on cologne.

They met back at the elevator, their demeanor nonchalant. To the casual observer, they were just leaving at the end of a usual day, maybe meeting a date for a drink after work.

Bobby and Alex walked uptown, to the restaurant he had chosen. A quick light diner, then off to the movie. They spent the next two hours laughing, eating popcorn and skittles, and losing themselves in silliness.

"I think there might have been a few teachers like that in my school," Bobby laughed as they walked downtown.

"Mine, too," she agreed, her arm linked lightly through his. "Thanks for letting me pick. I know your tastes run, um, a bit more cerebral," she grinned.

"Hey, I like fun as much as the next guy," he looked down at her in amusement. "Besides, you're putting up with my taste in music Thursday night."  
>"And you're eating my cooking," she bantered back, and turned the corner towards the train station.<p>

"Nuh-uh," he pulled her in the opposite direction.

"What?" she cocked her head to the side.

"This is a date," he reminded her. "And I'm _**driving**_ you home." He steered her towards the parking garage at One PP.

"You drove the Shelby?" she was incredulous.

"Only car I own," he said dryly.

"Can I drive?" she wheedled.

"Nope. Date. I drive," he put his arm around her shoulders.

"If you insist," she heaved an exaggerated sigh.

He drove towards Forest Hills, easily moving through the late evening traffic.

"Sorry we don't have any music," he said. "Radio's busted."

"This is nice," she smiled. Alex took his hand, and rested their clasped hands on her thigh.

"It is," he smiled back.

Soon, too soon, in her opinion, he was pulling up to her building."Want to come up for coffee? I have decaf," she invited.

"Uh...okay," he stammered.

He leaned against the counter while she made the coffee. He pulled out mugs and the sugar bowl from the cupboard, and cream from the fridge.

They carried the steaming drinks to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch. Alex kicked her shoes off, and tucked her feet under her.

"This-this dating thing," he paused. "I-haven't enjoyed myself this much in a very long time."

"Me, either," she rested her head on his shoulder. "Have to say, I didn't really know what to expect, because we've been friends for...years."

"I get that," he put his arm around her and rubbed his cheek in her hair, savoring the floral smell of her shampoo. "Maybe that's what makes it better, because we _**do **_know each other so well."

"Wish we didn't have to go to work tomorrow," she yawned.

"Long drive to Albany," he agreed. "But maybe we'll get a break in the case."

"Couldn't hurt," she snarked. "After the rousing success we've had so far this week."

"Hey, I thought I was the pessimist in this partnership," he teased, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Can't let you have _**all**_ the fun," she chuckled huskily, pulling his mouth to hers.

"Speaking of..." Bobby deepened the kiss.

"Mmm," she moaned softly as his hand moved under her shirt, up her back.

"Really only came in for the coffee," he murmured at the base of her neck.

Alex massaged his scalp seductively, "I know. But maybe there's something you'd like better?"  
>"Lots of things," his fingers located the clasp of her bra, while the other hand was running under the front of her shirt.<p>

"Bobby," a gasp wrung from her as he moved the bra aside, then ran his fingernails down her ribcage.

"Not what you expected?" His tongue licked slowly through her shirt, making one nipple, then the other, peak through the thin layers of cotton.

She arched into his hands, "Third date."

"Not done courting you yet," but his breath was ragged.

"Really?" she tried to find the zipper on his jeans.

"Just having some...fun," he held her hand still, took a tiny bite of the nipple closest. "Are you havin' fun?"

Her answer was a muffled epithet, her hips twisting slightly.

"Think that's a yes," he settled her across his lap, her back to his chest. Now both hands were under her shirt, alternately palming and plucking her breasts, his voice pouring erotic encouragement in her ear. "Does it feel good? Because I love how you feel..." his tongue licked below her ear... "how you taste..." His nose buried in her hair, "how you smell..."

Her butt moved forcefully onto him, ""please, baby, _**please**_..." she groaned.

"Talk to me," he moved one hand over her stomach, fumbled at the button on her jeans, felt for the pull of the zipper.

"Hot," she whispered raggedly, her skin slicking with sweat. "On _**fire**_."

"Hmm, pants on fire," he chuckled.

"Totally, totally true," Alex was panting as he succeeded in opening the zipper, sliding his hand to the edge of her panties, then inside... "Bobby!" she shivered, moaned as his fingertips found the pearl at the juncture of her thighs.

He was crumbling at her voice, the slickness at his fingertips, feel of her grinding down on him, "Alex, sweetheart..."

Their haze was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone, "No, God damn it," Alex wailed.

Bobby withdrew his hands and flung his head back against the cushions, "Worst fucking timing _**ever**_."

"Ignore it," she begged, trying to entice his hands back under her clothing. The words had scarcely left her mouth when_** his**_ phone began shrilling. "Oh, come on, _**really**_?" Alex levered herself out of his lap and stumbled over to her purse. One missed call. One PP. "Not on call, ten thirty at night, just when..." she muttered as she went into the kitchen and viciously pressed redial.

Meanwhile, Bobby picked his up on the fourth ring. Hannah mobile. "Yeah, Joe."

"Bobby, sorry to call so late," the captain's voice was grave. "Sam Dimitri is at Bellevue. Tried to hang himself."

"Son of a bitch," he swore. "He gonna make it?"

"Looks like the guards got to him in time," Joe said laconically. "I know you and Alex are supposed to go to Albany in the morning, but under the circumstances..."

"Assuming his lawyer won't put a gag in his mouth," Bobby was now livid.

Alex emerged into the living room, clothing put back in place, and a pissed-off look on her face, "Part of me wishes he'd succeeded," she seethed.

"I know," he reached out and rubbed her forearm. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," she came over and put her arms around him.

"I should go," he sighed.

"Yeah," she walked with him to the door.

"Hannah wants me to try to talk to the kid in the morning," he rubbed the back of his neck, his face a mask of anger.

"Aw, Bobby," she protested.

"I know, I know," he waved his hands restlessly. "But it may be our chance to break him."

"As long as he doesn't break _**you**_," she muttered.

"Alex," he said tiredly.

"Sorry," she bit back a snarky remark. "I had a really good time tonight," she smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"Me, too," he kissed her swiftly, then opened the door. "See you in the morning."

"Drive safe," she said, then locked the door behind him. She moved to the window and watched as he got into his car and pulled away. Only then did she let the bitter tears roll down her cheeks.

As it turned out, Sam Dimitri was not in any shape for visitors in the morning, much less an interrogation. He was stable, but his doctors were keeping him sedated, and his lawyer refused any olive branches from the DA's office or NYPD.

Alex was at the wheel of their department SUV, heading towards Albany.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm glad we aren't seeing the kid this morning," Bobby glanced up from his binder.

"Really? Why?" Alex cast him a sidelong look.

"Well, I think McCoy is right. We are still missing a few critical pieces to the puzzle. Might be better to have a-clearer picture before we hit him, hard," he explained.

"You agreeing with Jack McCoy, write this day down," she laughed.

"I know you and his wife are friends," he said.

"For ten years, and even _**she**_ thinks he can be an asshole sometimes," she conceded.

They laughed companionably. "The other reason I'm glad we're going to Albany is...I get you to myself for a while," he smiled.

"If we hadn't been so rudely interrupted last night..." she grinned. "But I know what you mean. And I have a good feeling about meeting Mrs. Mikos, think she might be able to tell us something..."

"Woman's intuition?" he grinned.

"Something like that," Alex paused. "Want to talk about...?"

"When we were so rudely interrupted?" Bobby laughed ruefully. "I think the kids call it a total buzz kill."

"The cold shower I took didn't help much," she snarked.

"Usually doesn't when pants are on fire. And it didn't help mine either," he confessed sheepishly.

She raised her eyebrows, "Nice mental image," she smirked.

"Back at you," he teased. "Look, Alex...there's nothing I want more than to make love to you...soon."

"That's a relief," she sighed. "Because I was beginning to worry."

Bobby put his hand on her thigh, "When we...cross that line, there's no going back. And it's all tangled up with what we feel and who we are and..."

"...Work," she finished his thought.

"We fought so hard to get back to Major Case, you especially," he said earnestly. "You gave up a sure promotion, the captaincy...don't think I don't know what you sacrificed. Wherever we go, that is a fact of our life together."

Alex swallowed deeply and replied, "Once upon a time, I aspired to...rise above what happened to my dad, to best my brothers, to...remunerate...my husband's loss. But then I was assigned this partner. He was smug, arrogant, and brilliant. I literally had to run to keep up with him. He pissed me off, shut me out and challenged me every second of the day. But I learned this man cared deeply, not only about the victims and their families, but the perps, or what drove criminal behavior. He made _**me**_ care. And, yeah, I still prefer to know the _**who**_ rather than the _**why**_, but you made me a better person, a better cop. And I learned my biggest lesson of all: that I loved the man, the soul under the exterior. That's what matters to me, Bobby. Everything else is just...background noise."  
>"Alex," he was choked up. "Having this...understanding...still hard for me."<p>

"I know," she acknowledged, brushing her hand across her eyes. "The intimacy thing..it's fun to tease you...because I know your track record with the ladies...and I can't wait to prove the size thirteen vibe theory," she took his hand and pressed it into her upper thigh.

"Such entertaining conversation," he teased.

"Alleviates boredom on road trips," she smirked.

"Intimacy...when I was younger, it wasn't about the emotion as much as pleasure," he reflected. "And even in the relationships I had..there were issues with the long haul."

"Went through that for years after Joe died. Once or twice...I thought I'd found someone who could...fill that void. When that didn't work out, I decided to carry Nathan...if I couldn't have that opportunity to have my own child, at least I could make it happen for my sister." she mused.

"And after that?" Bobby prompted.

"Didn't seem important. And I fell hard for you," she admitted. "But about the time I wanted to do something about it, there was the kidnapping and your mom got sick..."  
>"And Frank and Donny...Tates...Gage...a clusterfuck," he groaned.<p>

"Pretty much," she whispered, clearing her throat. "Since this is 2011, probably ought to talk about um, protection."

"Uh huh," he nodded, "I've been tested, my doctor is big on preventative care. Not," he said ruefully, "that I've had anything to protect against for a long time."

"Gee, sounds like my sex life," she cracked. "I've had an IUD for years, and get tested, too."

"So when we get busy..." Bobby grinned.

"We can be safe," Alex finished. "Great, _**now**_ you tell me. When we're spending the day on the road interviewing wits."

In spite of their repartee, they were serious about the task at hand. And Athena Mikos had a treasure trove of information.

Spry at eighty, she had lively eyes, and a sharp wit. She had set out a lunch of chicken salad on croissants, marinated vegetables, melon wedges and cookies. Fresh icy limeade shimmered in frosty glasses.

"This is so kind of you, ma'am," Bobby commented as they sat in the kitchenette of the assisted living apartment.

"Please, call me Athena," she urged. "And this is nothing, compared to what we made at the restaurant."

"This chicken salad...is marvelous," Alex took another bite.

She beamed at them, "Stavros and I...the restaurant was our lives. And since we didn't have our own children, our employees...our customers...were family." the smile faded from her face. "My heart breaks for the Richmans. He was such a kind boy, even back then."

"Did you keep in touch?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, letters and cards. He visited the restaurant when we retired, came to Stavros' funeral. I just had hip surgery, so I didn't get to-to-their mass," she wiped away tears.

"Do you remember Galatea Dimitri?" Alex wondered.

"That-that..._poutana_..." she sputtered. "She was no good, trying to seduce anyone she saw as a meal ticket. We finally fired her, because she was such a distraction. And then Richard fell for her...I told him she was trouble. He was shy, not experienced...sweet boy, my cousin's son. Why he married her...he said it was because of the boy."

"Gala's son?" the detectives exchanged a shocked glance.

"And Richard's," Mrs Mikos nodded. "He supported her through the pregnancy, and then finally they married. He was devastated when she left him, taking that sweet little boy."

Bobby posed the next question delicately, "How-how did you know that the child was you cousin's?"

"Richard told me," she sighed. "But I never...Gala was not...monogamous."

"She is pushing the agenda that Sam Richman is her son's father, even giving him his first name," Alex took a drink of the limeade.

"But Richard said he...took a test to prove he was the boy's father," the elderly woman was puzzled.

"When?" Alex asked.

"Oh, it wasn't so long ago, earlier this year. She came to him, saying that in order for her son to get financial aid, she wanted him to take the test," she made a face of disgust.

"You...you see Richard?" Bobby tried to keep his tone casual.

"He lives right here in Albany. Comes to visit a couple times a week," she replied.

_**Oh, my God**_, Alex telegraphed her reaction to her partner.

Richard Danton was just as his cousin said, a quiet man, very shy. He looked older than his sixty-nine years. They found him at his apartment on the north side of Albany.

"I really don't know what to say," he said sadly. "Athena misunderstood when I said the test proved Sam is my son. In fact, Gala told me that Sam Richman is his father. That's why I signed the papers at the time of the divorce."

"Then did you...did you do a DNA test this year|?" Bobby pressed.

"I did, but only to prove to the boy he wasn't mine. Gala..." his tone was wistful. "Even after all these years, I still love her, or at least who I thought she was. She said the boy was questioning his paternity. She still has a hold on me, I guess."

"Would you consent to a DNA test, Mr Danton?" Alex asked.

He looked puzzled, "I guess so. But I don't understand. What does it matter?"

"We need to know, once and for all, who Sam Dimitri's father is," Bobby said. "And we also need to know your whereabouts during the time of the events of this case."

"I was here," Richard's expression then dawned understanding, then horror, "You think I...? I could never...would never..."

They swabbed him for DNA with his consent, and informed him of his rights. Richard was forthcoming in his answers, but they felt they needed to verify his alibi.

From the local precinct, they called Captain Hannah and updated him on their productive day.

"You want permission to stay over and chase this?" their boss asked laconically.

"He was forthcoming in his answers," Alex said. They were on speakerphone in a small conference room. "And he willingly gave us his DNA."

Bobby added, "This guy...he may have value as a witness, but as for direct knowledge of the murder...doubt it. The locals could verify his alibi as well as we could."

"So that sounds like a no to staying over," Hannah commented. "Put dinner on the expense account and drive safely. See you in the morning."

"Morning? It's nearly seven thirty now. How about noon?" Bobby requested.

"If you swear in blood that DNA is in the lab before your heads hit your pillows," Joe said.

"Deal," Alex hung up.

"Let's get that dinner, and then go home," he gestured towards the door.

It was after midnight when they dropped the sample at the lab and headed to the elevator. "Got plans for the morning?" he asked.

She laughed, "Making sandwiches and potato salad for my date tomorrow, um, later today."

"You don't have to," he shook his head.

"Oh, but I do," her tone was silky. "I want to impress him."

"You already do," he whispered, brushing his lips in her hair as they parted at the train station.

Alex slept until nearly eight, assembled the potato salad, then went for her usual run. Her last loop took her by the market, where she piled the rest of the ingredients for their picnic supper into a canvas bag. At home, she split a loaf of crusty bread, hollowed out the center, and filled it with meats, cheeses and veggies. She drizzled vinaigrette over all, and replaced the top half of the loaf. She wrapped it well in foil, then put in the cooler, a foil-wrapped brick acting as a weight. Fresh strawberries between slices of bakery pound cake, dusted with powdered sugar for dessert, bottles of Italian sodas and the dish of potato salad and a bag of ice filled the cooler. She carefully lifted it into the trunk, along with a small basket of plates, flatware and napkins, covered it with a thick blanket and drove to work.

Bobby was already at his desk, busily typing on his laptop, "Afternoon, partner," he grinned, waving his hand towards the iced latte on her desk.

"Bless you," she breathed. "Any news on our jailbirds?"  
>"Well, mama is apparently plenty pissed that she can't see her baby boy. As for said boy, he remains sedated," he said dryly.<p>

Alex scowled, "Does that mean his condition is..?"

"Rodgers talked with one of the docs at Bellevue this morning, and he's going to be fine, just want to give his body a rest. In other news, they found a note in his cell," Bobby added.

Alex brought her head up sharply, "What did it say?"

"See for yourself," he invited.

She rolled her chair next to his and read the copy on his screen, "Hmph," she scoffed. "Apologies to his dear mother, but no admission of guilt. Bastard."

Her phone rang, and she leaned over Bobby to pick up the call on his phone, "Eames."

Liz was on the line, "How quickly can you and your partner get down here?"

"Hello to you, too," Alex laughed.

"No joke," Liz's voice was tense.

"Be right there," she hung up. "Rodgers wants to see us."

In the morgue, she beckoned them into her office, "Found the smoking gun." she handed a report to Bobby.

He quickly scanned the sheet, and a grin crossed his face.

"What?" Alex snatched it from his hand and read. "Jesus Christ, what took so long to find this?"

"Well, the curtain cords used to bind Stella Richman were the twisted type, with a fancy notched edge. Trace collected the cords and swabbed the exterior. The DNA was hers. After we got our asses handed to us with the paternity test, we took another look at the bindings." She pointed to the evidence bag and accompanying photos. "I twisted the cord and saw the fingernail, a glove fragment and the blood. The unpolished nail and the glove fragment virtually eliminated the possibility of the vic being the source. So, I ran the analysis and voila...Samuel Dimitri is the source."  
>"No doubt?" Bobby persisted.<p>

"99.999999989% good enough for you?" she countered. "And here is the second domino," she continued. "Samuel Dimitri is the biological child of Richard Danton. Also, the sample you obtained yesterday is a dead-on match for the sample submitted to Paternity Finder as the purported father."

"You got the results that fast?" Alex asked, shocked.

""Ran them personally. It's about time the good guys got a few breaks, don't you think?" the doctor said sarcastically.

They returned to MCS, energized. "Now we just have to get a meeting with Dimitri and his lawyer," Bobby told the team as they gathered in the war room.

Joe Hannah shook his head, "The DA's office isn't going to let you in ten miles of this."

"Why not?" Alex asked. "We have the opportunity to get him to confess, and to flip on his mother. I know it's about ego and perception, but...justice..." her gut twisted.

"Let me meet with McCoy, troops. In the meantime, we keep this in house, understood?" his tone was dire.

There were subdued mutters of agreement.

"God damn it," Bobby paced the conference room. "If we don't get to him now, he's going to slip through our fingers."

"He's locked in a psych ward, under sedation, Bobby," Alex tried to calm him down.

He took a deep breath, "And he could use emotional distress, diminished capacity...some bullshit excuse to get out of this."

She threw the crime scene photos across the table, "Any jury is going to see these and dismiss that for what it is...bullshit." Her tone softened, "Hey, there's nothing we can do about it anymore today."

He stared at her, "What-what do you suggest we do?"

"I'm going to a concert tonight and eat the nice picnic supper I made. It's up to you if you want to join me," she stared back.

"Go to the park, eat, and forget about this," he gestured at the files and stacks of evidence.

"It will be here tomorrow," Alex replied. "You want a normal life? This is what real people do. I'll be in the car," she turned and left the room.

Bobby scrubbed at his face with his hands, sank into the nearest chair. He couldn't do it, he thought. He couldn't let that family be denied justice. Then he heard Dr Gyson's voice. _"Having a normal life is something that takes hard work, harder than anything you've ever done. You have an emotional drawbridge that you use for protection."_ And Alex's words, _"You have empathy for everyone but yourself." _ He gazed into the bullpen. Over half the desks were empty, his colleagues out the door and on with their lives. Was he using the job as a substitute for the voids in his personal life? He kept telling Alex that he wanted a future with her. Well, did he or not?

Alex went to the locker room and changed into shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Bowing to the late July heat, she pulled her hair up, using a clip to secure a messy bun. She slammed her locker door with a little more force than necessary.

"Let me guess, partner piss you off?" Detective Amy Walker laughed.

"Yeah...no...Hell if I know," Alex groaned, sinking onto the bench.

"Now that sounds like boyfriend pissed-off rather than partner pissed-off," she yanked a dress out of her locker and slipped it over her head.

"What are you, a cop?" Alex snarked.

"Hey, I got two divorces under my belt, girlfriend," the other detective shot back.

"Just...over-thinking things, I guess," she said wryly. "Bad habit acquired from my partner." Her cell beeped. She looked at the display "At your car. Were r u?"

She keyed in a quick reply. "C u in 2."

"Guess he came to his senses," Amy laughed, seeing the expression on her face.

Alex simply grinned.

He lounged against her car, clad in the camo shorts and black t shirt she loved, "Hey, I was wondering if I could hitch a ride to the concert?"

"Maybe," she said cautiously, taking out her keys.

He reached out and tried to grab them, but she held them behind her back. "Aw, Alex, c'mon. We need to get there soon if we want a good seat."

"In a minute," she was deadly serious. "I-I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to-to minimize how you feel."  
>He was stunned. He expected anger, sarcasm, not an apology. He stammered,"You were right, you know. Obsessing is not going to help solve this case any faster."<p>

She handed him the keys, smiling. "A little obsession is a good thing," she conceded as he pulled out of the parking garage. "Otherwise we wouldn't have the solve rate we do."

They arrived at the park in time to spread the blanket on the ground. Alex unearthed the food from the cooler and passed him a plate.

"Okay, this is great," he said in appreciation, taking a bite of the potato salad. "You sure you made this?" he teased.

"Perhaps you'd like to be wearing it instead of eating it?" she asked sweetly.

"I believe you," he held up a hand in mock fear.

They sat back on the blanket as the band tuned up and the sun sank slowly in the sky.

"Great music," she sighed as the last notes died away. She was lying on her stomach, Bobby on his back, leaned back on his elbows.

"Wonderful night," Bobby agreed.

People around them were gathering up remnants of picnics, extinguishing candles, and folding up blankets.

"Not ready for it to end," she sighed.

"Me either," he sat up and ran his hand over the small of her back.

She rolled over and regarded him curiously, "What would you like to do?"

"I dunno," Bobby put his hand on her stomach.

"Maybe not _**that**_," Alex picked up on a restless vibe from him. "I have an idea," she said brightly.

"What?" he asked.

"It involves you driving me home," she began.

"So far this is not objectionable," Bobby laughed as they repacked their belongings and made their way to the car.

"Let me finish," she put a hand on his arm. "The rest requires a certain amount of trust on your part."

"Okay..."he strung out the syllables.

"I want to do something for you, to take care of you," she said seriously, "spoil you."

"You made us dinner," he reminded her. "And you take care of me every single day, honey."

"This isn't about sex," she explained. "Just...let me help you relax."  
>"You mean like...what...a massage?" he asked.<p>

"Yes," she said. "What do you think?"

"Your place or mine?" he smiled.

"Mine," she said, letting relief wash over her.

They arrived in Forest Hills before eleven. While Bobby was in the bathroom, Alex rummaged through the hall closet, looking for some massage oil. She came up with a bottle of almond oil. She went into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and laid an oversized towel down. She lit a few candles and left just a small dresser lamp lit.

Bobby was waiting in the living room. "I'm just going to warm this up a bit," she held up the bottle of oil. "Want some wine?"

"Sure, I can get that for us," he followed her into the kitchen as she filled the sink with hot tap water.

He poured a couple of glasses of zinfandel and handed her one. They clinked their glasses together, then she asked, "Why don't you go lie down?"

Bobby took one last swallow of his drink, and kissed her cheek.

She found him lying face up, clad in his shirt and shorts, his shoes and socks discarded by the bedroom door.

"Let's take this off," she helped him pull the shirt over his head. "Lie on your stomach," she whispered.

Before he did as she asked, he cupped her face in his hands, "Alex...I...thank you."

"You don't even know if I'm any good at this," she chuckled wickedly, patting the bed next to her.

He lay face down, giving himself over to the mood. She straddled his thighs, and poured a stream of the oil over his broad back. Bobby felt the stress of the day seep away as her hands massaged the muscles of his back and neck, fingers soothed his scalp. All the while, her voice whispered tender words, balming his soul as her hands stroked his body. He let himself relax, then drift into a deep slumber.

Alex could feel his muscles ease up beneath her touch, and when she heard a soft snore, she sighed in satisfaction. She extinguished the candles, stripped to her panties, retrieved his shirt from the foot of her bed. She slipped it over her head, then pulled the covers over both of them. Snuggling close to him, she was asleep in moments.

"Hey, I need my shirt back," Bobby's voice was in her ear.

She buried her face deeper in her pillow, "Huh?"

Bobby turned her over and waved a cup of coffee under her nose, "Good morning, sunshine."

She squinted in the bright sunlight, "Why are you a morning person?"

"Best time of the day," he chuckled. "Especially after a really good night's sleep."

"Come back to bed," she murmured, letting her eyes drift shut.

"Nope," he grinned. "The coffee for the shirt."

"Or..." she sat up and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"It's eight thirty, Detective Eames," he said sternly.

"What? And you let me sleep?" she flung back the covers and hurried to the bathroom.

"Forgetting something?" Bobby called after her.

"Here's your damn shirt!" she flung it over her head and winged it towards him, affording him a brief flash of her breasts. She slammed the door as he pulled the shirt on.

"I'll see you at work," he said loudly to the closed bathroom door.

Hannah waved Bobby into his office as soon as he entered the squad-room, "Running a little late this morning?"

"Had a date, overslept. Sorry," Bobby cracked a grin.

"Whatever," Joe said. "DA's office wants to meet at one. With all the recent evidence, it's going to the grand jury, probably next week."

"Are they going to offer anything to Dimitri junior?" he asked..

"Maybe," the captain acknowledged. "Last report from Bellevue says he's alert and awake, probably headed back to Riker's this afternoon. So let's get the ducks in a row."

"Understood," Bobby got up to leave.

"And find your partner," Hannah added as he cleared the door.

Alex emerged from the elevator a few minutes later. She was struck by the undercurrent of tension in the bullpen. "Hey, Rich, what's up?"  
>"Getting ready to drop the hammer on the Richman case," her colleague informed her.<p>

"Today?" she was surprised.

"Yeah, and Hannah's on the warpath," he warned.

She went to the conference room, in search of her partner. He caught her in the doorway, and took her aside, "If anyone asks, you had car trouble this morning," he said under his breath.

"Great," she muttered.

The meeting in the DA's office went considerably smoother than the ones prior. Jack even congratulated them on their stellar investigation.

Before Samuel Dimitri was returned to Riker's he and his public defender, Stan Shattenstein, met with Cutter and Claire. Alex and Bobby attended the meeting as well, standing in for the DA's investigators.

"You're going to get this in discovery, but we thought you'd like to know what you'll be up against at trial," Claire flipped open a file. "Your DNA, blood and fingernail, at the crime scene."

Dimitri was expressionless. Shattenstein reached for the file, read it, and blanched. "Is this for real?"

"For _**real**_?" Cutter barked out a sarcastic laugh. "As real as it gets."

"My client-uh, he has done work in the Richman apartment," the public defender stammered.

"Right," Alex's voice dripped acid. "While he was rebooting Stella's computer, he told her there was a glare on the screen. He went to close the curtains, and his fingernail caught in the tie-back cords. Happens all the time."

Dimitri grinned smugly, "Thanks for the theory."

"You know, killing Sam Richman, I understand that. After all, he was your absent father. And my father, he wasn't very present in my life," Bobby mused.

"Then he was one up on mine, because the sperm donor never wanted thing one to do with me," he sneered.

"Really?" Bobby countered. "Funny, that's not what he told us." He slapped Richard Danton's statement in front of him.

Dimitri spared the document barely a glance, "He's not my father, just some loser my mom married."

Cutter flipped the next domino, "Not your father. Who told you that, your _**mother**_?"

"DNA test, read it and weep," Alex quipped. "Or in your case, rot in hell."

Thunderclouds gathered on the suspect's face as he scanned the report, "This is a trick."

"Let me see that," his lawyer yanked the paper from his client's hand. "Sam, I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut." He perused the document.

"That's a fake," Sam muttered. "It's wrong. He's not my father. I took a test."

"Sure you did," Bobby said quietly. "And you failed. Miserably."

"So, does your client have anything to say for himself?" Cutter inquired.

"I need to confer with him," Shattenstein closed the file.

"Bullshit, I'm not talking to anyone," Dimitri sneered. "Take me back to Riker's."

"Riker's, huh? The place you tried to escape, via a pine box?" Alex hammered.

"That's uncalled-for, detective," Shattenstein scolded.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Bobby rose after delivering his parting shot.

On the way back to the office, the partners walked in silence. They bypassed their desks and headed to the conference room.

"Think we got through to him?" Alex asked at length.

"Dunno," he rubbed the back of his neck wearily, his expression angry.

She watched as he paced the room, "His lawyer is a first class loser."

"But even he knew to shut his client up," Bobby raged. "What if he gets off?"

"He won't," she said. "Are you okay?"

"No," his tone was deadly.

Alex felt a frisson of fear, and bit her lip, "Tell me what I can do for you."

"Nothing...just...nothing," he muttered. "Have to work it out for myself." Bobby had the acute sense of walls closing in. She couldn't help. He'd just pimped out his family_** again**_, and for what? An unrepentant sociopath. Dimitri was another Nicole, another Declan...they'd used him up and spit him out. "I-I gotta get out of here."  
>"Wait!" she brought her head up sharply.<p>

He seemed not to hear her as he strode out the door, to the elevator bank.

"Son of a bitch," Alex muttered under her breath. She hesitated a split second, then ran after him.

He was just getting to the elevator, when she inserted her boot in the closing doors. Bobby looked startled, then pissed. "What part of that did you not get?"

She looked daggers at him as the elevator opened, "I got it, all right," she hissed, not caring if the knot of officers in the hallway heard. She got into the car and pressed the button for the parking garage.

"Eames..." he was trying to keep a leash on his temper and failing.

"Talk to me," she pleaded.

"I-I can't..." his tone was anguished.

"You won't," she countered.

Stony silence greeted her.

"Just because you're mute doesn't make you deaf," she said coolly. "If you're going to punish yourself, at least...be smart about it. I don't want to hear about you on the morning news tomorrow."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"That's it," Alex remained in the elevator when the doors opened.

"See you Monday, Alex," he said, before the elevator closed.

She rode back up to the eleventh floor, stewing. It was going just too fucking well. How did she think that a few weeks of this new relationship was going to erase a lifetime of...drama...abuse...doubt? If he didn't want her help, she wasn't going to force it on him. Alex bit her lip, trying not to cry. Help. She had a thought as she sat down at her desk. Scrolling through her laptop, she found the contact number for Dr Paula Gyson.

Bobby took a seat at his neighborhood bar, and ordered a double scotch.

"Long time no see," Waldo, the bartender, commented.

"Been busy," he said shortly, tipping the glass back.

"Running a tab?" the barkeep inquired.

"Uh-huh," the detective grunted. "Hit me again."

"Detective Eames? This is Paula Gyson, returning your call. How can I help you?" her voice was kind.

"It's not me, it's Bob-it's my partner," Alex explained. "I have some concerns about his..mood, for want of a better word."

"You know I can't get into the specifics of his case," the doctor explained.

"I _**know**_ that," Alex was frustrated. "Something...happened with a suspect this week, during an interrogation, and it triggered...Bobby has a habit of torturing himself when things don't go well, and this is one of times. He can be...self-destructive." Way to betray your man, Alex.

"You're worried," Gyson said cautiously. "What do you think he'll do?"

"If I'm lucky, he'll go home and drink himself into oblivion," she snarked. "Or maybe drown his sorrows at his local bar. I just...want to make sure he keeps his appointment this week, and to give you a heads-up."

"I appreciate the call," Dr Gyson paused. "Is it all right if I share your concerns with him?"

Alex rolled her eyes, "Yes, I guess."

"Although I think he might appreciate it more coming directly from _**you**_," the therapist continued.

Shrink speak, Alex thought, dismayed. "I'll tell him." She hung up and slammed the laptop shut. Once home, she changed into her running gear and hit her usual circuit, plus an extra two miles. Fury drove her more than anything. After her shower, she decided to address the backlog of voice mails. Three from Liz, two from Ashley about a dress fitting, one from her dad. Dinner invites from Will and Melanie, one from Claire.

She returned calls, while eating leftover potato salad and a sandwich from last night's picnic, along with several glasses of wine.

By the time she reached Liz, she was feeling pretty buzzed, "Hey, sissy!"

"Wow, you sound vaguely like my sister Alex," Liz laughed.

"Right, on the very first try," she giggled.

"My drunk sister Alex," Liz amended.

"Not drunk, just kinda tipsy,' she corrected her.

"Uh huh. Bad week at work? Or fight with the partner?" she inquired.

"Both," Alex flopped onto the couch.

"I thought things were going well for you and Bobby," Liz sighed.

She poured the remainder of the bottle, "So did I."

"How about you come drown your sorrows with us at the pool tomorrow?" she invited.

"I guess," Alex said. Dark was enveloping the apartment when she wandered into the bedroom. She saw the bottle of oil, and the wadded up towel on the bed. She picked it up and inhaled his scent. Her anger evaporated, to be replaced by a bone deep sadness. She cried herself to sleep, clutching his pillow.

Bobby stumbled home near midnight, drunker than he'd allowed himself to get for at least a year. He fell into bed, not bothering to undress. The booze dulled the heartache he felt, but didn't erase it. He remembered the feel of Alex's hands last night, the sound of her voice. Why did he have to go fuck it up?

Alex woke the next morning with a pounding headache. She resisted the urge to check on Bobby, her pride still hurt from his attitude yesterday. Plus, if he felt half as shitty as she did, that might be punishment enough. After a morning of laundry and re-hydration, she set off for the pool. An afternoon of horseplay with Nathan, and a good old Eames family gossip session went a long way towards improving her mood.

Bobby's hangover didn't preclude him from heading over to help Lewis at the garage. His friend took in his trashed appearance, but made no comment. He stayed far into the evening, smoking and slamming beers. He'd probably have another hangover tomorrow, he thought to himself. His phone beeped as he walking into his apartment, 1 new text from Alex Eames. "Call me."

He held the phone, considering. But he pressed the speed dial, "So, I'm calling you back."

Her voice was sleepy, "Thanks. Just checking in."

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Uh huh," she was more awake now. "Look, I called Gyson yesterday."

He shook his head, dismayed, "Why?"

"You know why. Are you going to keep your appointment in the morning?" she asked.

"If you let me get to bed," he countered.

"Need a ride?" she yawned.

"No, I'm _**fine**_, Alex," his tone softened.

"You'd better be, because I have no inclination to break in a new partner or a new boyfriend," she said dryly.

He had to laugh, "Good to know. Night."

"G'night," she replied.

He walked into Gyson's office Sunday morning, not sure what to say. Or rather, what to say first.

"How was your week, Robert?" she began, deciding to go with open-ended.

"Really great and and beyond shitty," he responded, slouching in his seat.

"Interesting answer," Gyson cracked a smile.

"You would like me to elaborate," Bobby rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Okay, the good part first. I've had some amazing dates w-with my part-with Alex," he smiled to himself.

"Sounds like you're working through, the intimacy issues," she concluded.

Bobby sat a little straighter in his chair, "Yeah, I mean, we're taking it slow, but..it's really a surprise."  
>"What is?" Gyson asked.<p>

"Well, we've been friends for twelve years, and I'd say best friends for most of that time. I thought that dating might be weird...or diff-different, somehow." He got up and looked outside. "It's comfortable, but on a whole 'nother level."

"Last week I asked if you were happy," she reflected. "And it sounds like you are."

"Yes, I am-we are," he sat down again and rubbed at his knee. "We go out to dinner, have drinks, been to a concert...a movie...and that's about as far as I want to discuss that." he broke off and smiled.

"Physical intimacy is something that's difficult to talk about in session," Gyson said.

"Yeah, it is," he said dryly. "A couple of nights ago...Alex did something...showed me that...she cared beyond just sex. We'd had a rough day, and she knew that the case was...becoming even more taxing for me...She made us a picnic lunch, and we went to a concert after work. I went home with her and she...gave me a massage. No pressure to take it further, she just...it was truly a tender thing." his voice was incredulous.

"And you think your not worthy of that kind of caring?" Gyson sensed an important insight to be revealed.

"Uh...yeah, no...I don't know," he said. "All I know, is I slept soundly, and felt...it soothed my soul, especially with what happened after that."

"Did Alex tell you she called me Friday?" Gyson tiptoed into the question.

"Yes, she told me last night. She-uh...this case has hit one big raw nerve and I-uh, I can be self-destructive." He grinned ruefully. "She didn't want to see my body on the front of the Post, and she absolutely wanted me to show up for my session today."  
>"You what, use alcohol, drugs? Pick a fight in a bar?" Gyson wondered.<p>

"Drink too much, get sloppy...maybe not pick a fight, but can get targeted in one," he acknowledged.

"There was a trigger for this...behavior," she reflected.

"I-uh, this case. Been known to pimp out my family to get a suspect to confess, and I did it again this week, with no success. This kid is-is a sociopath, with no remorse for what he's done," he was up again, pacing.

"Dealing with that type of criminal is what you do, it's why you're so successful at your job," she reinforced. "It's part of your skill set."

"But this...murderer went through life thinking his father was someone who was absent, didn't care. Of course, that information came from his lying mother," Bobby said sarcastically. "It took the slaughter of a whole family, and a police lab for this kid to find out who his true father was, a man who would have...been in his life...if he had the opportunity to know the whole truth," Bobby struggled to explain, knowing what came next would break through a wall he wasn't sure he was ready to break down.

"The father subject is a touchy one for you," Gyson commented. "We've barely addressed it."

"My dad, the one who raised me, he-he wasn't my biological father," he decided to let the bomb drop.

She couldn't help it, her professional mask slipped, "That's hard news to get. How-how far into your life did you find that?  
>"Uh, on my mother's deathbed four years ago, she said she'd had an affair, and never knew for sure...my mom, my dad, even my older brother on some level...they all knew," he said bitterly.<p>

"Did...did you ever find out who...?" she stumbled over the words.

"Yeah, at the same time my mother was dying, this prisoner on death row, Mark Ford Brady...about to be executed, got me and my partner to the prison...to help him remember and locate some of his missing victims," Bobby swallowed bile. "He was a photographer, and he kept these scrapbooks, by the decade he killed his victims. My mother was in one of the books, the 60's, while she was married to my...the man I thought was my father."

Gyson went pale, as understanding dawned, "He was...manipulating you."  
>"Fuck yeah," Bobby responded bitterly. "It took me a year after they were dead to get the guts to actually do the test." He sat back down. "My partner...she knows all this...and she worries because...it brings up the anger issue...and imperfect fathers."<p>

The therapist sat quietly, "Well, I think we're finally establishing the trust we talked about."  
>"Gonna scare you off, Doc?" he managed a sardonic chuckle.<p>

"Not a chance," she returned his smile. "Your partner...she's an amazing support to you."  
>"I might have been dead three or four years ago had it not been for her," Bobby said affectionately.<p>

"And I think that about does it for today," she took a deep breath and stood when he did.

She extended her hand to him, "Thank you for...the work you put in today. I know that took real effort."

Bobby shook her hand warmly, "Thank you for making this a- a safe place. Um, no homework assignment this week?"

"Just...remind yourself that Alex values your well-being, and let her know that. It's not meddling or snitching, but born out of love and concern on her part." she said thoughtfully.

"Sounds easy enough," Bobby again gave a sardonic grin. "Next week, then."

_**Okay, this was painfully long. But we're moving in the right direction. Next chapter, the relationship...um, okay, smut level is going through the roof. But **_**only****_ if you review. Like um, 10 more before the next one is posted. _**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sigh. My somewhat facetious comment about 10 reviews seemed to rub people the wrong way. But you **_**did**_** review, and I am glad there is so much interest in this story! This chapter is why we have an M rating. Because after Bobby's breakthrough with Dr Gyson, he needs a reward, don't you think? And so does Alex for patiently waiting for her man. And this is by no means complete.**_

Alex was over at her dad's, cleaning the apartment with a vengeance.

"Hey, slow down, Alex. You'll scare the dirt," Johnny laughed.

"The dirt could use it," she gave the dust cloth a vigorous swipe.

"C'mon, talk to your old dad," he appealed.

She plopped down on the couch with a huff, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Hey, you're my kid. It's either the job or the man," he snorted.

"It's both," she conceded.

"As much as I like Bobby, mixing the work and your love life, it's dangerous," he said.

"I know, I know," she raked her fingers through her hair.

"You had a fight," Johnny poured himself a drink, and offered her one.

She shook her head, instead grabbing a soda from the refrigerator. She popped the top and took a swallow. "This case...it's been a bitch. Without telling tales out of school, it's brought up a lot of issues for Bobby, and for me."

"A whole family gettin' whacked, little kids...cops' worst nightmare," he acknowledged. "Any closer to getting the sick bastards to trial?"

"Maybe," she hedged, looking over at her parents' wedding picture. "How did you do it, Dad? Not bring the work home to Mom?"

"Well, not working in the same place helped," he said dryly.

"You know what I mean. She grew up in a cop family, too, so she knew about the garbage you dealt with," Alex persisted.

"You were married to Joe for three years, and lived with him for a couple years before that." he reminded her.

"But we weren't partners," she said. "And we fought about the job plenty. Why I didn't want to get pregnant right away. When was I going to give up the job for something safer. Turns out, walking Greenpoint in a halter top was a lot safer than working Narcotics," she added sarcastically.

"Why didn't you want kids, Alex?" he asked.

She stared at him, stunned, "You-you've always given me shit about that."

"I just-your mom and I thought you'd make a great mother. You take care of everybody in this family, you had a kid for your sister, for Christ's sake," he said.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to," Alex blinked away tears. "Joe...he was a lot like you. Guess it's true-women tend to marry men like their daddies. And about six months before he...died...he'd had an affair."  
>"Son of a bitch," Johnny muttered. "I never cheated on your mother."<p>

"Oh, I know you didn't," Alex grasped his hand. "But his views on marriage... a cop marriage..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Johnny ruffled his daughter's hair.

"I forgave him, Dad. Because I loved him. But I wasn't ready to trust him, not totally," she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "And bringing a baby into that...wasn't right. You didn't answer my question, how did you and mom do it?"

Johnny was till reeling from his daughter's revelation, "It was hard. What we do...not great dinner conversation. That's why there's cop bars, you know? We could bullshit and blow off steam there, try to drink away the sewer we swam in most days. Then we'd go home, where there were kids to raise and bills to pay." He refilled his glass. "Your mother wanted her family to be...safe."

"You never talked about it?" she wondered.

"It was a different world then," he reminded her. "This talking about feelings shit...made you weak in my day." He barked out a laugh. "So we'd drink too much and smoke too much, some guys...ate their guns."  
>"Right," she said dryly.<p>

Johnny chuckled, "I have to say, Bobby is a whole lot different than Joe."

She scowled at him, "I thought you liked him."

"I do, Alex. He's just...not the kind of guy who I thought you'd go for," her father said.

"Me either," she admitted. "But I love him."

Johnny looked over at his late wife's picture, "Then you'll find a way to make it work."

Bobby left Gyson's office, still a bit surprised at himself for revealing his paternity issue. He caught the train home, thinking. About his mother. And fathers. And Alex. He had to hand it to the shrink, he had a new perspective on his partner's actions. Love versus meddling. Christ, what a concept. Maybe because he'd had to rely on himself for most of his life, it was too easy to fall back on those survival skills. He had to recognize that he could share the load, that she had never turned on him, and never would. Once home, he went for a run, then called Alex. Voice mail. He paused, then left a message. "Hey, it's me. I-uh, I had a good session with Gyson today, and would like to talk about it...if you want. I love you."

An hour later, she called back, "Sorry I didn't pick up. Was out running."

"That's okay," he felt absurdly happy at the sound of her voice.

"You sound much better," she said.

"I am," he paced back and forth as he talked. "I told Gyson about Brady."  
>"Whoa," she gasped, dropping into the nearest chair. "Th-that's huge."<p>

"Yeah," Bobby took a deep breath. "Want to talk about it over dinner?"

"Sure, just give me a chance to get cleaned up," she grinned. "I have a couple steaks in the freezer, want to come over and watch me burn them on the neighbor's grill?"

"I like mine medium rare," he laughed.

As soon as they hung up, she made a mad dash for the shower, then pulled on a white tank top and short denim skirt. Hair blown out, steaks defrosting in the microwave...she was ready just as the doorbell rang.

He looked at her attire and grinned. "For you," he handed her a handful of white tulips and forget-me-nots.

She buried her nose in the fragrant little bouquet, "Sweet."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

She leaned up to kiss him, then pulled him inside, "Get in here."

She set the bouquet in a vase, then set to work slicing zucchini, mushrooms and peppers.

"So, you steal propane from your neighbors?" he joked as he seasoned their steaks.

"They're in Aruba on vacation, and I'm feeding their cat," she informed him, tossing the veggies in olive oil.

"Do you have a key, or will you just...pick the lock?" Bobby laughed.

"The cat'll let us in," she led the way down the stairs and across the hall.

"Just so we don't get busted for B and E," he followed with the platter of food, his eyes on her butt and bare legs and feet.

The key turned easily in the lock, and they walked through the apartment to the patio. While Bobby fired up the grill, Alex checked on the cat food and water, and dumped the litter box, "Yuck," she muttered as she dumped the bag in the dumpster.

The cat, Sydney, wandered from her hiding place, slid out the patio door and rubbed around Bobby's legs, meowing plaintively.

"Don't kiss up to him, because we're not sharing our steaks," she scolded the chubby calico. "Your food is in the kitchen."

"Aw, Alex, don't be mean to the kitty," he leaned over to pet Sydney.

"That's right, you ate hairballs for a girlfriend," she sighed.

"Jealous?" he teased, straightening to put his arms around her.

"Shows that much, huh?" her voice was muffled into his chest.

"Sweet," he chuckled.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few fat raindrops hit the concrete. "Great," Alex muttered.

"The steaks are about ready," Bobby reluctantly let her go. He forked the meat and veggies onto the platter and Alex covered it quickly with foil. They locked up the apartment and headed back upstairs.

"Want a beer?" she offered as he helped her set the table.

"No, I think I've inflicted enough damage on my liver this weekend," he said dryly. "Water's fine."

"Okay," she filled their glasses with lemon wedges and ice water, then lit a few candles. The murky dusk and the rain falling outside contributed to the cozy feeling in her kitchen.

"So, you said you told Gyson about Brady today," she broached the subject cautiously.

"Yeah," he stabbed at a slice of zucchini. "After...my meltdown on Friday, I knew that it...was time she knew. But it really had as much to do with how I treated you. I am so sorry, Alex. You-you were trying to save me from myself, and I didn't handle it very well."

"I suppose I should be used to it," she sighed. "That didn't come out the way I meant it to."

"It's the truth," he nodded sadly. "I have a lot to learn about how...to be in a relationship."

"We've been in a relationship for years, Bobby," she reached over and took his hand. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "And we know how to push each other's buttons."

"I've been in survival mode for so long, from the time I was a kid, the sharing thing is hard for me. You are probably the one person I trust in this whole world, and yet...I test you. Because in my past..."

"People you trusted have let you down," she finished his thought. "I hope you know that I would never knowingly do that."

"In my heart, I know that. It's my screwed up head that...I over-think things," he said ruefully.

"This is not news to me," she chuckled affectionately. "So...telling Gyson...must've been scary."

"Yeah," he laughed. "And I sure surprised her. But it was the right thing. Because...I want to get better, to be better."

Alex felt tears mist her eyes, "Anything I can do to help that along?"  
>"Do what you do every day, I couldn't ask for more," he squeezed her hand.<p>

They spent the evening snuggling on her couch, watching Ocean's Twelve. At one point, Alex was lying down, with her legs draped across Bobby's lap. During one of the commercial breaks, he began massaging her feet.

"That feels really good," she sighed, curling her toes.

"Better than Derek Jeter?" he teased, referencing a long-ago snarky comment she'd made.

"I can't believe you remember that," she grinned. "Way better."

"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop," he remarked, pressing a kiss on the instep of the foot he held.

"I'm not wearing any shoes, dear," she said sleepily.

He got back at her by tickling the back of her knee, keeping enough of a hold that she couldn't kick him, "You know what I mean. The last time we were on this couch...we were very rudely interrupted."

"Stop tickling me and we can finish what we started," Alex said seductively, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV.

He considered her mussed up hair and languid expression, "Things might get out of hand."

"Counting on it," she smirked, rubbing a foot over his fly.

At that, he shifted their positions so that she was under him, pinning her easily. He rained kisses over her cheeks, nose and eyes, deliberately avoiding her lips.

She made a mewl of protest, her hands grabbing at the back of his neck, finally succeeding in capturing his mouth with hers.

Their tongues tangoed, laughter died in their throats. "Alex, baby," he groaned, moving his hips against hers.

"Want you," she murmured, her hands squeezing his butt.

"Soon," he rasped into her ear.

"Why not now?" she groaned as he found the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Because I want to take my time with you..." he nibbled at the case of her throat, "spend all day..." he cupped her breast, "and night..." his mouth left an exquisite dampness on her shirt over the nipple.

"We can call in sick," she begged.

"Hmm, we'll just play a little tonight," he said persuasively, sliding his hand beneath her skirt.

"Okay," she gave in, with a sharp intake of breath as he moved her panties aside.

"Like that?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," she whispered as she arched to meet him. "Let me...ahh." She pushed her hands against his chest.

"What?" he was puzzled until she sat up, facing him.

Her hand reached for his fly, the sound of the zipper loud in his ears. "See, we can both have fun," she explained.

His hand slid back under her skirt, while she reached inside his underwear, her hand closing around him.

They sat in the near-dark of the room, their eyes locked, focused on pleasing the other.

"Feels so good," he groaned as she stroked him purposefully.

"That size 13 thing...totally true," she gasped a little as his fingers found the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. "Jesus, Bobby!"

"Faster, Alex," he moaned. "Oh, yeah!"

The only sounds in the next few minutes were gasps, groans and murmured epithets. Then satisfaction.

Bobby drew her against his chest as their breathing returned to normal, their clothes displaced.

"You can come over to play anytime," she murmured drowsily.

"No one I'd rather play with," he pressed a kiss into her temple.

"Wanna stay?" she kissed his chin.

"Love to, but I shouldn't," he kissed her lips.

"I'd make it worth your while," she chuckled, her hand moving towards his groin.

"You already did," he laughed, pushing her hand away. "Feels like...high school, you know? The experimenting...discovering..." he mused.

"...am I doing it right? Is he going to like me...after?" she finished his thought. "Although I suspect you did more than this in high school," she added snarkily.

"I plead the fifth," he laughed. "And what about you, missy?"

"Plead the fifth, too," she grinned.

Monday began with a double homicide, a diplomat's son and the son's fiancee. Add that to their current caseload and the fact they had to testify at grand jury later in the week in the Richman case, it promised to leave them with little downtime.

Captain Hannah called them in for a briefing on the new homicide Tuesday morning, "Any leads on who whacked these folks?"

"Plenty of suspects," Alex flipped through the file in her lap. "Franklin Brandon IV, aka Fritz, age 30. Harvard, Oxford, snazzy apartment on the upper west side...lots of family bucks. Shannon Marie Atkins, nee Jones, age 29. More self-made than junior, she attended Princeton on a scholarship, then London School of Economics. The victims were into the money business, him as a trader on Wall Street, her as an investment banker. She had an ex husband, John Atkins, no kids. She'd taken out an OOP against him in 2008, their divorce was final in 2009."

"Where's the ex?" Hannah asked.

"Uh, moved to California, but he has family in Jersey," Bobby informed him. "We're gonna chase that this afternoon. We also have some disgruntled fired traders, and with the financial crisis, bankers..."

"...have a list of enemies a mile long," Hannah groaned. "Great, just when I get to hold the grand-kid, we get handed a press case."

"Welcome to our world," Alex snarked.

"So is Josh's family here for a visit?" Bobby asked.

"They're flying in tomorrow," Joe said. "First time we get to see Grant in person."  
>"Well, you're the boss, ought to buy you a little time off," Alex commented.<p>

"Put a word in for me with the Chief of D's," he said in dismissal.

On the way back from Jersey and a dead end, Alex got a call from Claire, "Hey, how about coming over for dinner Thursday night?"

"Uh, I dunno. We just caught a case," she demurred.

"You're always catching cases," her friend groused good-naturedly. "C'mon, bring Bobby with you."

"Bobby and Jack, right," she rolled her eyes. "Two alpha males at dinner."

"And three kids, including two teenagers. Tell him for me that I'll make Jack tone down the testosterone," Claire said.

Her partner looked up from his binder, questioningly.

"Dinner with the DA and his family," she mouthed.

"If you want to go, I'll try to behave," he laughed.

"Want me to bring anything?" Alex asked in resignation.

"Your appetites," Claire replied. "See you around seven."

"Are you sure?" Alex asked.

"Of course," Bobby looked over at her seriously. "Look, you've met my friends over the years, I want to get to know yours. Part of the couple thing."

"I'm...touched," she smiled. "I know you're not a big fan of Jack McCoy."

"Well, I really don't know him," Bobby waved a hand.

As it turned out, dinner in the McCoy household was informal, and highly entertaining.

Claire answered the door in faded jeans and t shirt, "C'mon in," she invited. "Ainsley, quit arguing with your brother and set the table please."

"But Mom, he just called my friends morons," a thirteen year old version of her mother appeared.

"John, don't call your sister's friends names, and you are supposed to be taking out the trash, not tormenting your sister," She waved their guests into the living room, where she had a pitcher of sgroppino and a tray of marinated veggies, cheese and crusty bread.

"Sorry, the animals are restless," she apologized. "They're bored and picking on each other. Time for school to start."

"No apologies necessary," Bobby smiled, his charm in full force. "Kids are great."

"We'll be happy to export them to you and Alex for a few days," she said dryly. A little boy of about nine came into the room. He had his mother's eyes, and curly dark hair, but his father's smile and bearing. "This is my baby, Adam." she gave the boy a squeeze.

"Aw, Mom, I'm not a baby," he said, embarrassed. "Can we take Remy for a walk after dinner?"

"We have guests, son," Jack came into the room. "Alex," he gave her a light hug, and he extended his hand to Bobby. "Detective."

"It's Bobby, off the clock, Counselor," He shook his hand firmly.

"Jack, please," Claire's husband was clad as casually as his wife, and seemed to shed a bit of his intimidating personality at home. He poured himself a drink and scooped some veggies on bread.

They made small talk for a bit and then moved into the dining room. Dinner consisted of chicken Parmesan, salad and pasta, with strawberry pie for dessert. The conversation was lively, with the two teenagers arguing like the lawyers Alex and Bobby suspected they would someday be. John at nearly fifteen was clearly his father's son, both in looks and attitude. Ainsley was equally spirited, not letting her older brother get the best of her on anything. Adam was quiet, sweet; his contribution to the conversation seemed to be peacemaker between his siblings. Through it all, Jack and Claire maintained an attitude of loving discipline. After the meal was cleared, the adults went out to the back patio.

"Peace at last," Claire said blissfully, sitting next to her husband on the small swing. Their lab-mix dog curled at their feet.

"John, why don't you take your brother and Remy on a quick walk around the block?" Jack requested.

"All right," John gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Remy?" Bobby asked.

"Short for 'Remand,'" Jack laughed.

"Lawyers, aren't we awful?" Claire elbowed her husband affectionately.

"Speaking of, are you ready for the grand jury tomorrow?" Jack inquired.

"No work talk," she scolded, holding a hand to his mouth. "Ignore him."

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. In spite of Claire's edict, they did talk a bit about the Richman case.

As they drove home, Bobby at the wheel of her Malibu, Alex held his hand, "Thanks for tonight, Bobby."

"You're welcome. I had a good time," he added, raising her fingers to kiss them lightly.

"You sound surprised," she chuckled.

"I am," he said. "I guess...people are different away from work. And they seem happy together."

"Oh, they've had their ups and downs. They took a lot of shit over the age difference, and his reputation of bedding his assistants," Alex said dryly. "Claire was in a car accident about fifteen years ago, when she was pregnant with John. She was in a coma for months. When she recovered, Jack promised that he'd never take her for granted again. They've been married ever since."

"Their kids give 'em a run for their money," he chuckled.

"Yeah. The youngest was kind of a surprise baby, after September 11th. And Jack has a grown daughter, she lives in California. She's married, got a couple kids. They don't see her a whole lot." Alex commented.

"So, how did you become friends with Claire?" he wondered.

"I met her about the time I joined MCS. Was testifying in a couple of her cases, and we just sort of hit it off. And we got the girls night out group going...it's lasted through divorces, boyfriend breakups, unplanned pregnancies..." she explained.

"That's nice," he said.

They were called to testify at grand jury in the morning, then they were back on the case they caught earlier in the week in the afternoon. Captain Hannah brought in his family over the lunch break.

"Josh, I don't think I've seen you since you were about this high," Bobby grinned.

"I remember you used to do magic tricks when you'd come over for dinner," Josh's eyes twinkled.

Sharon handed Grant to her husband, "Now, support his head," she fretted.

Joe shook his head, "It hasn't been that many years, honey. Kept three kids alive without too many mishaps. He beamed at his grandson, who babbled and blew raspberries back.

"Isn't he just the greatest?"

Alex took hold of a chubby fist, "He is adorable."

"Want to hold him?" Sharon offered.

Josh's wife, Amy, frowned a little, "Not sure I want him passed around a lot."

"Oh, honey, she's family," Sharon took the baby from her husband and put him in Alex's arms.

Big blue eyes regarded her solemnly, then he broke into a toothless grin. "You're gonna break a lot of hearts, baby boy," Alex cooed, fluffing the fringe of soft blonde hair.

The baby responded with another round of babble.

Bobby watched her interact with the baby, a wistful smile on his face. That was one of his biggest regrets...that he didn't have children. And now that they were the age they were...guess they'd have to be satisfied with nieces and nephews.

Saturday they spent working, much to their dismay. "Goddamn media cases," Alex muttered.

"Make you a deal, we give it til five thirty, then we blow this place," Bobby bargained.

"What'd you have in mind?" she inquired.

"Dinner and dancing," he flipped open his laptop.

"You're on," she said with a smile.

They wound up in a bar in the West Village, where there was good food and an even better band that played everything from oldies rock and roll to current pop love songs.

Bobby and Alex stumbled into his apartment after two AM, too tired to do anything but tumble into bed and sleep.

They woke to the ring of the phone, "Goren," he muttered.

"Hey, got a guy down here who says he has information on your stock trader," the desk sergeant at the 2-7 informed him.

"We'll be there in a little while," he groaned.

"Don't like the sound of that," she sighed, pulling the pillow over her face.

As Alex drove, Bobby called Gyson to reschedule his appointment.

"Wednesday night at seven," he responded to her unasked question.

"Oh, shit," she sighed. "Nate's school carnival is that night."

"So, go," he said.

"I wanted you to come with me," she explained.

"We're going to have lots of chances to do stuff together," he reminded her gently.

"I know," she agreed. "And I want you to keep your appointments with Gyson."

Work was their focus the next several days. By Wednesday afternoon, their hard work paid off. They'd broke the murder case from the week before, and the grand jury had handed down indictments against both Dimitris.

Captain Hannah offered his congratulations on the indictment, saying, "You've earned a day off tomorrow."

"A whole Thursday off, whatever will we do?" Alex asked Bobby as they got ready to leave that night.

"Go for a run with me, and I'll treat you to lunch," he grinned.

"Hmm, like that idea," she nodded. "But let's do it early, because it's supposed to be brutally hot tomorrow."

"See you at seven," he said.

"Seven?" she groaned. "By the time I get back from Nate's school carnival tonight, it's going to be late."

"Whine, whine," he teased.

"You could come with me tonight," she wheedled.

"Can't, got to see Gyson, since I missed Sunday," Bobby's tone was sardonic.

"Hey, I understand," she put a hand on his arm as they rode down in the elevator.

Alex rolled over and scowled at the alarm clock. "Whose bright idea was it to do this?"

But she got up, dressed in shorts and a ratty NYPD t shirt, tossing a change of clothes into a bag into a bag. She pointed her car towards Brooklyn, and eased into a spot near Bobby's apartment.

He greeted her with a kiss and a steaming cup of coffee, "Good morning, honey."

"Why is it that you're a morning person?" she mumbled, taking a big drink of the sweet elixir.

"Best time of the day," he grinned like a six-year-old.

"You look happy this morning. Good session last night?"

"It was good. How was the carnival?" he asked, filling his water bottle at the sink, then filling one for her.

"It was fun, lots of junk food and sweets, face painting and a dunk tank," she flipped open her phone, and showed him a picture of Nate, his face mess of red, white, blue and green stars.

"Hope that's washable," he laughed.

"I dunno, Liz said he refused to wash his face before he went to bed," she tossed the phone aside, and tugged at his arm. "C'mon, help me run off the junk I ate last night."

They ran about four miles, bagging it sooner because the heat and humidity were approaching unbearable. They stopped for smoothies during their cool-down.

"Oh, thank God for air conditioning!" Alex breathed as Bobby shut the door to his apartment.

"You want the shower first?" he inquired.

"Right now I just need to pee," she laughed, heading to the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, saying, "Your turn!"

Bobby returned to the kitchen, to find her rummaging through his fridge, coming up with a bottle of water. She rubbed the cold bottle over her face and let the condensation trickle down her throat to her chest. She caught him looking at her, "You want one?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he wasn't really wanting the water, just liked what the cool air was doing to her breasts.

Bobby gulped as she bent to get the water from the bottom shelf in the fridge, and took a step forward. His hand reached out, grabbing her ass.

"Bobby..." she groaned.

"What?" Slowly, his fingertips moved over the curve of her butt, around to her inner thigh, stroking softly to her knee.

Alex felt her skin go hot then shivery. She pressed back against him, shutting the fridge door. "You don't really want that water, do you?" her breath hitched.

"Nuh-uh," his left hand moved upwards again, this time venturing under the leg of her shorts, while his right snaked around her waist, drawing her against him.

"We're all hot and sweaty," her voice sounded thin, reedy to her own ears.

"And about to get hotter and sweatier," he ran his tongue in her ear. "Unless you object?"

Alex groaned as his left hand moved higher.

"You were saying?" his fingers slid beneath her panties, and parted the slippery folds. Alex gripped the refrigerator door, afraid her legs weren't going to hold her, as he stroked, then slid a finger inside her, "Jesus, Bobby...that feels..." her voice died away in a strangled cry.

"Doing great things for me, too, baby," he groaned, adjusting his position so his erection was pressing on her low back. And still his fingers were moving, pleasuring. Her shivers and little sighs were stoking his desire.

"This-this better not be a tease," she whispered hoarsely.

"D-does it feel like a tease?" he breathed, running the tip of his tongue behind her ear.

"N-no," she whimpered as his right hand moved under her shirt to her breast, plucking the nipple through her bra. He repositioned his left hand, fingers probing deeper, rhythmically. "Oh, God...coming..." she wailed.

"Kinda the idea," Bobby laughed raggedly as he withdrew his fingers, and turned her so he could gather her in his arms.

She was still shuddering, "That was...words fail me." Her heart was thudding in her ears.

"Well, I've heard that after exercise your endorphins are high, making orgasm more..." he murmured.

"Shut up, damn it," Alex slapped a hand to his mouth, "Bed," she gasped.

"Tired?" he bit her fingers lightly, then began aggressively bathing the recesses of her mouth with his tongue.

She manged to throw her head back, her expression murderous, "Courtship is over, I want you inside me."

"Oh. Okay," a rapacious grin defied his casual tone. He flung her over his shoulder and strode the few steps into his bedroom.

She landed on the bed with a little bounce, but it hardly broke their rhythm. Greedy hands ripped at clothes, impatient. Shirts, shorts, underwear and socks were cast carelessly to the floor.

Alex pulled his jock off, her fingers shaky with haste. She gathered one hand around him, a predatory look in her eyes.

Bobby pushed her hand away, more interested in trying to loosen her sports bra from her damp skin.

"Rip it," she begged as they struggled with the unwieldy garment. Just then, it let loose and went flying, making them both laugh.

"Bossy, aren't you?" he teased, laying on top of her and kissing her. "'S okay, like that in a woman."

"Impatient," she countered, her hips rising against him.

"Lots of time," he groaned as she stoked his hard on slowly.

"Twelve _**years**_, Bobby," she pleaded.

"Let me court you just a little bit more," he moved his mouth lower, to the base of her neck. His fingers searched out, cupped her breasts. "Tell me what you like, what makes you feel good." he took a nipple in his mouth, leisurely lapping, sucking, with a light nibble thrown in..

"But you...I've already had a turn," she gasped. "Oh..like that."

"You get one more," he chuckled, fingers, lips, and tongue branding her skin. "Maybe two."

Alex felt her body slip into a unceasing state of arousal, "I like when you do that it...feels..." he was kissing the back of her knee. "Tickles," she giggled.

"What about here?" he swirled his tongue in her navel while holding her thighs apart.

Her hips rose, toes grasping the sheets, her skin slick with sweat, her fingers tangled in his hair, "Lower," she gasped.

"Thought so," he said raggedly. Fingers, then the tip of his tongue lapping at her inner folds..lips caressing. He sought the little pearl at the top and focused his attentions there.

Alex wailed, "Right there...torturing me...faster, no...slower..." words dissolved into sobs.

He took a tiny nip with his teeth, sending her flying. Time ceased to exist as the pleasure took her body, shook it like a rag doll, then dropped her in a boneless puddle.

Bobby was holding her firmly to his chest, fingers running through her wet hair, raining soft kisses on her cheeks, her lips, murmurs of comfort, affection. The first words she heard clearly were,"...too much?"

Yes and no and...her brain was still foggy, "That was more than two more turns," she managed to squeak.

He erupted in laughter, "Okay, you're back."

"And now it's your turn," she kissed him passionately, elbowing him onto his back.

Bobby was painfully hard, and his actions of the past hour made him wonder how long he would last. He felt the sweep of her hair against his chest as she nibbled at the base of his neck, her hand gently stroking his manhood. He didn't want to disappoint her, and he faltered, "Alex, it's been a while...don't know how long..I'll last..."

"Leave it to me," she grinned. She nibbled at his nipples, gently massaged his shoulders, arms and belly.

"That's...um, wow," he groaned as she kissed the sole of his foot, ran her fingers behind his knee.

"Yes?" she set her teeth near his left hip, her hair falling in a curtain over his groin.

"Kinda like a scatter-gun, not sure where you'll hit next...Oh, my God!" her fingertips stroked the underside of his erection, near the base and exerted an exquisite pressure.

"Wh-where did you learn...?" he gasped.

"My days in Vice," she smiled. "The working girls...have an abundance of useful information." She paused then used her breasts to squeeze him.

"Very...useful," he groaned.

"Then you might like this even better," her mouth took him in fully.

She tilted her head just enough so that she could meet his eyes. Her fingers pressed in his groin, keeping him still.

"Maybe the gun analogy wasn't...Jesus, Alex..." he felt the edges of her teeth. "The gun may go off..."

She stopped long enough to grin, "then we'll just reload." And she went back to pleasuring him with her mouth.

Bobby felt the heat spread, "_**Now**_, baby, right now!"

He hauled her under him, then lay very still. "Just...just a minute," he whispered.

"Bobby..." she whined, turning her head so she could suck on his fingers. "What?" she panted.

"I love you," he kissed her tenderly.

"Love you too," she whispered, stroking his cheek.

"Little out of practice," he admitted, bracing himself on his forearms.

"Me, too," Alex assured him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he groaned.

"You won't," she let the tears spill over as he lunged roughly into her.

"Breathe, baby...breathe," he moaned into her ear, thrusting again and again.

After a few seconds, she did breathe. And sighed. And wept. And screamed.

With one final thrust, he collapsed, pouring himself into her. The room was silent, save for their harsh breathing.

Alex managed to get her voice back first, "If that's out of practice, I'll be dead in a week."

Bobby chuckled, rolling onto his side, taking her with him, "Guess it comes back."

They both dissolved into giggles. "Bad pun," she shoved his shoulder lightly.

"Ah," he groaned, drawing the covers over them. "We need a day off like this more often."

"Um, hmm," she murmured into his chest. "let's ask for that when we go back to work."

"Funny," he snickered.

"Sleepy?" she kissed him lightly.

He buried his face into her neck, his unshaven cheeks pleasantly scraping her skin, "Yeah."

"Me too," she murmured, drawing his head down so that he was pillowed on her breasts.

"Love that," he took a tiny nip of her skin.

"Love _**you**_," she sighed, drifting off.

_**Okay, it was a **_**slightly****_ shorter chapter. And definitely a lot smuttier. And you thought they were going to have this romantic dinner, maybe dancing...seduction scene...surprise! Also wanted to give you some hints of friendships, angst and issues that will be addressed in future chapters. Bobby has a milestone birthday in the next chapter, and of course Alex will help him celebrate. I welcome any and all feedback :)_**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Had your cold shower yet, LOL? Okay, silly me. Now that Bobby and Alex have broken that final wall, expect all manners of smutty goodness. Someone is having a milestone birthday in this chapter, so of course there'll be a party. We'll have little case-file, as the Richman case is in pretrial. Some beloved former characters will make an appearance. Reviews, feedback and chocolate are all welcome. I don't own them, just like keeping them alive in the land of fanfic.**_

Alex woke first, a bit confused. Sure was a wild dream, she thought. Then she felt the weight of a leg over her hip. She turned her head slightly, realizing _**not a dream**_. She slowly eased herself out of bed, avoiding waking her lover. In the bathroom, she took care of necessities, wincing at certain tender spots. A quick gulp of water, and she decided that more sleep was in order. She returned to the bed, relieved that Bobby was still out like a light. They _**had**_ had quite the workout this morning, she grinned to herself as her eyes drifted shut.

Bobby's eyes focused on the length of messy streaky pale caramel-colored hair by his nose. Whoa, _**didn't see that coming**_ when he invited her for a run this morning. But boy, was it worth it. His brain replayed a few of the steamier moments from their little sexcapade. Why the hell hadn't he figured out how great they'd be together years ago? He ran a finger lightly over her shoulder, down the well between her breasts. He saw the red welts on her neck, her collarbone, and near her nipples. Shit, she'd likely kill him for those hickeys.

"At least I can smack a little makeup on mine, what are you gonna do?" she smirked, her eyes still closed.

"You're awake," he grinned. "And what do you mean, what am I gonna do?"

She ran her fingers over his neck, under his ear, "Shirt collar doesn't come up that far."

"Oh, the guys in the squad room will think I got lucky," he chuckled into her ear. "Kind of a badge of honor, if you will."

"Right," she said dryly.

"But I don't have to tell who I got lucky _**with**_," he ran a finger over her lips.

She smiled, "Maybe you can keep a secret, not sure if I'll be able to."

"You always said men talk too much," he reminded her.

"Oh, I don't have to say a word. Just pushing you down on the desk in the middle of the bullpen might give them a little hint," her voice was silky, her hand reaching for his hip.

"Nope, not until I address another bodily function," he scooted out of bed, then groaned as he got to his feet.

"Not as young as we used to be," she teased.

He returned to the bedroom in a few seconds, tossing Alex her ringing cell phone, "I'll have our shower ready in a few," he whispered as she picked up the call.

"Uh, hi," she said somewhat confusedly. "Phone was in the other room."

Her sister's voice was a bit suspicious, "I tried to call you at home."

"Ah, went out for a run this morning," Alex evaded.

"You sound...are you all right?" her sister pressed.

"I'm fine, have the day off," she stifled a yawn.

"So that's why a certain man was offering to get your shower ready," Liz teased.

"You heard that?..never mind what I'm doing," Alex snipped.

"You are too funny, and tell Bobby I'm glad for both of you," Liz enjoyed her sister's discomfiture.

"That's why you called?" Alex heard the shower start.

"Nope, just to invite you to dinner Saturday night. You and your lover, that is," she was merciless.

"We might, if we can manage to stagger out of bed by that time," her sister gave it right back.

"Rub it in, that you're getting regular sex, while my husband has been on a business trip in Florida this week," Liz laughed.

"Leave us alone, the water will be cold if I don't hang up right now," Alex scolded.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom. "Know you're in here somewhere," she laughed.

His hand reached from behind the curtain, and he grabbed her wrist, "Right here, milady."

She stepped over the edge of the tub, and he drew her into a tight embrace. She reached past him to grab a bar of soap, and she withdrew from him long enough to lather her hands well, a devilish grin on her face. She ran slick hands over his back, buttocks and belly, studiously avoiding a certain part of his anatomy, then kneeling and stroking his legs to his ankles and feet.

He pulled her to standing, where he took the soap from her, "Two can play at this," he breathed, sud-sing up his hands.

"Let me shampoo your hair," she said softly, squirting the liquid into her palm.

He knelt, his hands roaming over her body, while her fingertips massaged his scalp, "Ah, Alex, liking that," he groaned as she scooped handfuls of water over his scalp, rubbed his shoulders.

She gasped a little as Bobby's soapy digits gently ministered over her breasts, her belly and between her thighs, "Bobby!"

"Too tender there?" he pressed a kiss into her navel, and his hands deftly washed her legs and feet.

"A little...sensitive," she felt a trembling inside, desire building in spite of herself.

Bobby stood and faced her away from him. He squirted shampoo into his hand, and began cleansing her hair, letting the damp strands fall through his fingers languidly. The whole scene was so...intimate, sensual. He felt his arousal growing, and whispered into her ear, "Lean forward a little."

She felt him lift her and tip her hips forward. Alex gripped the towel bar as he slid inside her, one hand supporting her lower belly, the other curved over her breast. He moved so slowly that it gave her raw muscles from earlier time to adjust as they spooned, "Oh, baby...feeling crazy good."

His fingers splayed where their bodies joined, "Not too much?"

"Even if it is..." she whimpered as they found their rhythm. "Don't care," heat spread through her body. "There, there...right.." she tossed her head back with a strangled cry.

"Christ, you feel so good," he managed to grunt out as the last vestiges of his release shook him.

Knees shaking, they gingerly got out of the tub and took a few cursory swipes with a towel, before collapsing into a heap on the couch.

"You-you were going to take me to lunch," she ran a hand through his damp curls.

"I did say that, didn't I?" he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Um hmm," she sighed.

"Guess we should get dressed," he groaned.

"Good idea," she giggled, but still didn't move.

"'S'pose we could find someone to deliver," Bobby said.

"Isn't that what you just did?" she snarked.

He burst out laughing. "Call it dessert before the meal."

In the midst of their banter, they dressed and walked down the street to the nearest deli.

Over sandwiches, chips and iced tea, Bobby and Alex talked about this new dimension to their relationship.

"I have to admit, it-it wasn't exactly like I expected," he stammered.

"Why?" she asked. "It was..." she closed her eyes briefly, "Totally wonderful."

"For me, too," he admitted. "I...had it all planned in my mind. You know, nice dinner, candles...flowers..."

Alex blushed, "Since we're confessing, I dropped a bunch of money at La Petit Coquette, was going to cook this really seductive dinner, thinking I was going to give you a birthday present to remember."

"Hey, I wouldn't turn down that kind of present," he lifted her fingers to his lips.

"Instead, you got ratty NYPD issue workout clothes and old everyday undies," she said ruefully.

"It's the package, not the wrapping," he reminded her with a playful grin. "You got smoothies after a sweaty morning run, instead of a four course meal with champagne and strawberries."

"It's the singer, not the song," she rubbed her thumb over his. "In case I haven't told you, I love you so much, Bobby."

"I love _**you**_, Alex," his voice was a bit unsteady.

They spent the afternoon just hanging out at Bobby's, reading the paper, snuggling on the couch, changing the sheets on the ravaged bed.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" Alex asked him about six o'clock.

"I could cook for you, if you want mac and cheese from a box," he perused the contents of his cupboard.

She looked into his fridge, then freezer, frowning a bit, "I thought you were eating more healthy."  
>"I am," he insisted, coming behind her and rubbing his hands over her hips. "Just not the best cook in the world."<p>

"Well, let's see, there's chicken breast, frozen broccoli, pea pods and carrots. I can work with that. Ice cream for dessert. Got any rice?" she asked, poking around the freezer.

"Ice cream and rice? Yuck," he teased.

"Stir fried chicken and veggies with rice, smart-ass," she laughed indulgently.

He reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box of rice, "Satisfied?"

"Oh, yeah," she purred, grabbing his butt.

"Me, too," he swung her into his arms.

They spent the next several minutes kissing and caressing each other, savoring the intimacy of the small kitchen.

"Isn't this how the morning started?" Bobby's nose was buried in her hair.

"Um hmm," her stomach growled, intruding on their little tete a tete.

They broke apart, laughing. Alex busied herself thawing the meat in the microwave, while Bobby unearthed a large skillet and set the water boiling for the rice.

"I found the perfect thing for dessert," he announced, finding a package of premade brownie mix and a jar of chocolate sauce in the fridge. "Goes great with ice cream."

"Not the most nutritious," Alex demurred, weakening at the mention of chocolate.

"That's okay," he assured her, turning on the oven. "We can find a way to burn the calories off later."

She raised an eyebrow, "Three times in one day?"

"You're my aphrodisiac," he laughed.

He leaned against the counter as she skilfully cut up the chicken, and sauteed it with the vegetables, enjoying as she took over his kitchen.

Bobby cleared the small table, found the tablecloth he'd used for Alex's birthday surprise, and unearthed the candles in the glass jars. He dimmed the lights, lit the candles, and poured chilled wine into glasses.

Alex arranged the food artistically on his plain plates, and served him his meal.

"This is really good," Bobby enthused. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she smiled as they clinked their wineglasses together.

They talked about the coming weekend, studiously avoiding the topic of work.

"Liz invited us for dinner Saturday night," she remembered.

"We should go," he nodded.

"I'm not sure if I want to share you just yet, even if it is with my family," she chuckled.

Bobby threw back his head and laughed, "Big deal, it's only a couple hours, honey, we have what, another forty-five hours to do...other things."

After dinner, Bobby cleared the table and slid the brownie mix into the oven.

"Let me help with the dishes," Alex pleaded as Bobby filled the sink with soapy water.

"Nope, you cooked, I clean up," he shook his head. "Have another glass of wine."

"Trying to get me drunk?" she teased. "I think I'll make us some coffee to go with our dessert."

Bobby cut the brownies, scooped ice cream on top and finished their sundaes with a drizzle of chocolate sauce. "Want to eat al fresco? I think it's cooled off a bit."

They took their dishes to the back terrace.

"Yummy," Alex pronounced as she licked her spoon.

"Pretty good, if I do say so myself," he agreed.

"I should go," she said reluctantly.

"Stay," he stroked the inside of her wrist with his fingertips, making her shiver.

"I don't have any work clothes here," she demurred.

"You look fine to me," he crooned, his hand moving to the buttons on her blouse.

"I might have something in my locker," she felt her resolve weaken.

Bobby ran his hand up her thigh, "Don't want to force you to stay."

"You're not," she sighed, caressing his jaw.

In the bedroom, their encounter this time was slow, gentle, and infinitely tender. "I want to watch you, see your face," Bobby's voice was ragged as he guided her on top of him.

Alex braced her hands on his shoulders as she settled him inside her. "Oh, Bobby," she let out her breath in an torrid rush. Their eyes locked, voices soft, loving.

Collapsed on his chest, she reveled in the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear.

His fingers raked through her hair, traced each vertebrae, and treasured the intimacy of the moment. They fell asleep in that position.

Friday at work was surprisingly routine. They took the train to work, and Alex detoured to the locker room to assemble a reasonably professional outfit. Her entrance into the squad room about thirty minutes behind her partner was typical. She put a cup of coffee on his desk, courtesy of a mad dash to the kiosk just across One PP. "Good morning, partner," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Bobby, balancing his phone on his shoulder, grinned in response, "Gee, thanks."

The captain stopped by their desks, "Have a nice day off?"

"I did, what about you?" Bobby asked his partner, his tone casual.

"Great, worked out a lot," her eyes glinted wickedly over the rim of her coffee cup.

"Wonderful," Joe's tone was laconic. "Now that you've had a little break, got a nice fraud case for you."

"What, no homicide?" Bobby replaced the receiver in the cradle. "Dimitris are still locked step in keeping their mouths shut," he added.

"It's been barely two days since the indictment, did you think they'd crack?" Alex wondered.

"Hoped," he replied. "So, what's this fraud case?"

The captain handed them a file, " Two hundred grand missing from a brokerage account."

"So where's the fraud?" Alex wondered, skimming the info.

"Apparently Mr Stephen Epstein left on a month long trip to Australia. He came back this week to a gutted brokerage account. Now, this guy's kids are the signatories on the account. Turns out, the daughter's in the hospital on bedrest with preterm labor for the past five weeks, and the son's been on a honeymoon cruise in Europe for about three weeks. The withdrawals were during that time, under the kids' names, but neither one of them had the opportunity."

"The way the market's been, the perp could've been doing Mr Epstein a favor," Bobby commented as Alex passed him the file.

They spent the rest of the day in witness interviews and talking to the computer techs.

"Give me a dead body anytime," Alex groaned as they got ready to leave for the day. "All the numbers shit is frying my brain."

"Interesting motive, though, blaming this guy's kids," Bobby countered. "Makes me wonder if it's someone connected to them."

"Or the broker, wanting to keep his financial security in a very insecure market," she theorized.

"See, it's interesting after all," he teased.

They spent the evening at a tiny Forest Hills eatery and bar, grazing off each others plates and then dancing to slow jazz and pop music.

Bobby woke in Alex's bed Saturday morning to the smell of pancakes and bacon. "I could get used to this," he thought to himself, rolling out of bed.

"Sleep well?" she kissed him as she handed a steaming cup of coffee in the sunny kitchen.

"Like a rock," he grinned. He took a seat at the table while she passed butter and syrup, and poured orange juice. "I'll need to run more if you keep feeding me like this."

"Or we can find other ways to burn it off," she smirked.

"I thought I was going to choke on my coffee yesterday at the workout crack," he joked.

"I couldn't help myself," Alex laughed.

"Naughty girl," Bobby ran his hand up her leg, realizing she was naked save for his t shirt.

"Have my moments," she felt a ping of desire, "Baby, I love when you do that."

"When I do what?" he chuckled.

"Touch me...like that...geez, talk about naughty..." her breath quickened.

Any further discussion was interrupted by the ring of Bobby's cell, "Yeah, uh, Goren."

A pause then, "Does it have to be today? All right, all right, Lewis. Be there in an hour or two." he clicked the phone shut.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Lewis busted a couple fingers yesterday, and wants help doing some tune-ups," he sighed.

"That's okay," she reached out and ruffled his hair. "Go help him, then we can go to dinner later at Liz's."

"You're sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she scooted over to his lap. "Look, we don't have to be joined at the hip. Keeping our other friendships is important."

"It is," Bobby kissed her tenderly. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you," she kissed him back, then hopped up, laughing, "Go, before I change my mind!"

Secretly, Alex was relieved Bobby would be gone for a while. His fiftieth birthday was in two weeks, and she had some major planning to do. In spite of her confession about cooking him a sexy meal and seducing him, she also intended to host a big, splashy event, with lots of friends, food and great music. The trouble was, how to pull off a surprise party when your lover was a detective, add to the fact that they were together so much.

She'd gotten up early this morning to poach his contact list from his phone, and put it on her laptop. Alex knew a great many of his friends, from diverse walks of life, but getting the word out in such a relatively short period of time might be problematic. She figured the contacts would lead her to others. Addresses and emails could be gleaned by one of the tech guys at work, Josh popped into mind. He might spill the beans, but responded well to threats, she decided. A venue that would hold about a hundred people, plus food and music.

She considered her options. Their former captain, Jimmy Deakins, had connections with his position as head of a private security firm. Claire might be also have some ideas, since her husband was the DA. Family resources counted, too. She spent a good chunk of the day on the phone and the internet, but her hard work paid off. Angie Deakins was able to reserve a party room in the community building in their housing development. It was large enough to suit her needs, and it had a full kitchen. Best of all, since the Deakins' were members, it was free. Claire suggested a few caterers she had used, but cautioned that the short notice might limit her options. Her niece Ashley had a line on a DJ from school who might work for cheap. Alex found an Italian bakery who would do the torta cake and tiramisu for dessert. Claire was right about the caterer situation-with all the weddings and summer parties, most were booked. And the ones who weren't were too expensive or didn't offer the type of food Alex wanted.

Bobby called about three, apologizing for not calling sooner, "What time does Liz want us there for dinner?"

"Oh, shit, forgot to ask her," Alex admitted. "What time do you think you'll be done there?"

"Uh, probably be after six by the time I go home, get cleaned up, and swing by to get you," he answered.

"That's fine with me, I'll be ready. Love you," she added.

"Love you too, see ya in a while," he replied.

She quickly punched in Liz's number, "Hey, sorry to be such rude guests, but Bobby and I won't be there until six thirty or seven. Is that too late?"

"No, it's not. Dad is coming over, too and he's been playing cards with his buddies from the 4-0 this afternoon. Lord knows what kind of shape he'll be in when he gets here," Liz sounded annoyed.

"Do you want us to pick him up on the way?" Alex asked.

"No, Jack and Maeve will bring him," she replied.

"At least let us bring something," she insisted.

Liz blew out a breath, "If you could bring a couple loaves of bread for garlic toast and some salad mix, that would be fabulous. We're grilling steaks and chops, and sweet corn, and we'll have angel food cake with fruit compote for dessert."

"Is Eric home yet?" Alex wondered.

"No, not til the middle of the week," she sighed. "I miss him, and so does Nate."

"Don't go to a lot of trouble cooking for us, Liz," she said.

"I'm not, making the guys char up the meat, so we can have a gabfest," her sister laughed.

"And what would we be gabbing about?" Alex was wary.

"Oh, don't play dumb, sissy," Liz laughed. "You know, a certain someone getting some..."

"Right, with Dad, my big brother and my partner, not to mention your very impressionable son present," she countered.

"We need a girls night out," Liz sighed in mock vexation.

"Speaking of presents, I need your foodie expertise. Bobby's birthday is the 20th, and it's the big 5-0," Alex explained.

"So, you want to have a bash for your man? Sweet!" she enthused.

"I have a guest list, kind of, a place to have it, and cake. Might have a DJ, just need to find a caterer that doesn't cost me the proverbial arm and leg," she sighed.

"Let me do it," Liz begged.

"We're talking like a hundred people," Alex objected.

"It's no different than cooking for a church supper," Liz insisted. "Look, between me, my cooking group and our sisters in law, it'd be a piece of cake."

"I already have the cake," Alex sighed. "And I want you to be guests, not slaving over the food."

"What kind of menu are you thinking, Italian? Antipasti trays, bruschetta, crostini, mini meatballs, muffaletta sandwiches, stuffed mushrooms, all that would make a great light meal, could be set up buffet style, and it would be a great way for people to mix. Plus, it would really only cost for the ingredients, the labor would be free," Liz quickly calculated. "Some wine, maybe a keg..."

"Sounds tempting," Alex admitted.

"Say yes, we'll figure out the logistics later," Liz pleaded.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Family, remember? And Bobby by extension, is family, even without the license and the ring. Although that would be nice," Lix added.

"We just started having...um, a relationship," Alex stammered.

"Oh, so the sex is recent, huh?" her sister got it. "At least tell me it's good."

"Not good, phenomenal," she chuckled. "And that's all I want to say about _**that**_."

Alex went for a run, stopped to pick up the bread and salad mix, and grabbed a quick shower. By the time she finished blow drying her hair, Bobby was at the door.

She greeted him with a kiss. "Get Lewis caught up?"

"Yeah, Tom is going to help him this week, and we put the F 85 on hold for a while," he explained.

"Aw, that's too bad," she sympathized. "I want to see this little project one of these days."

"Careful, you might get sucked in as free labor," he teased.

"If it gave me time with you, I'd risk it," she laughed, reaching out to hold his hand.

Dinner at Liz's was pleasant, in spite of Johnny's mildly inebriated state. Besides Jack and Maeve, Ashley and her fiance Ryan were in attendance. Alex and Bobby were openly affectionate with each other, causing a lot of knowing looks to pass between her family members.

"Are you and Aunt Alex gonna stay all night like the last time?" Nate wondered as he chewed on a s'more.

"No, we can't stay tonight," Bobby sent a teasing glance towards Alex.

"Why not?" the little boy wanted to know.

"Because we have a lot of stuff to do before we go back to work on Monday," Alex carefully explained.

"Yeah, right, horizontal things," Ashley snickered.

"Hey, what's 'zontal mean?" Nate piped up.

"Explain that to your cousin, Ashley," Liz said acidly.

"Horizontal means lying down, you know, like when you go to sleep at night, Nate," Ryan rescued his fiancee.

"Oh," the little boy still looked confused. "Then why didn't she just _**say**_ that?"

The adults laughed. "Because she's a smart ass Eames," Johnny chuckled.

"I think we need a change of subject," Maeve said stiffly.

"Trust Mom the prude," Ashley muttered under her breath.

Jack looked at his daughter, "You know, you're about to be a mother. I'll be interested to see how you handle these questions from your kid."

"Hey, if they're old enough to ask, they're old enough to know," his daughter was unrepentant.

"Speaking of the baby, do you know if it's a boy or girl?" Bobby cleared his throat.

"Not finding out until the delivery room," Ashley groaned.

"She wants to know in the worst way, but I think it's one of life's last mysteries," Ryan said, his arm around her.

"Plus, if I found out, I couldn't keep my big mouth shut," Ashley added ruefully.

"How are you feeling?" Alex wondered.

"The fatigue and morning sickness really kicked my butt until about 16 weeks, now I feel fabulous...and fat...the baby kicks...what's not to love?" she grinned.

"I remember wanting to sleep twelve hours a day and the puky feeling...couldn't wait for that to end," Alex remembered.

"Did I kick you a lot when I was in your tummy?" Nate was curious.

"You did, especially at 3 in the morning," she laughed.

"Did it hurt?" he wondered.

"No, I actually liked it," Alex said. She caught a glimpse of her sister's face. "You know, if you ask nice, maybe Ashley will let you put her hand on her tummy and feel her baby kick." She rose and piled dirty dishes onto a tray.

Liz got up to help, "I can do that, Lex." Her voice was tight.

"I need to talk to you in the kitchen. Alone," Alex said pointedly.

Liz busied herself loading dishes into the dishwasher, obviously upset.

"I'm sorry, Liz," Alex put a hand on her shoulder.

"It shouldn't bother me, after all these years," she sniffled, rubbing her fingers in her eyes. "But you got to experience feeling him growing under your heart...and I never carried one long enough to have that..." she sobbed silently.

"Hey, I know, Liz. But you are his mother every single day, from the first breath he took. I was just the incubator," Alex's own eyes filled with tears.

"The one who handed him over in the delivery room," Liz remembered. "Maybe you still have a chance, with Bobby."

"I'm forty-five years old, he's nearly fifty, Liz. I think it's too late in the game to do the baby thing," Alex said wryly, wiping her eyes. "Just let us borrow Nate once in a while, and you and I can fight Maeve and Jack for the right to babysit Ashley's kid."

"Speaking of upcoming birthdays, have you given any thought to my offer?" Liz changed the subject.

"Work up a budget, and a menu, and I'll pay for it," Alex said.

"Mommy, mommy, I felt the baby kick!" Nate flew into the kitchen.

"That's really special, honey," She scooped her son into her arms. "You are getting _**so**_ big, pretty soon I won't be able to hold you like this."

On the way home, Alex was quiet.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"Oh, it's just Liz. She's still sensitive about pregnant women. And I think her in-laws are giving her grief again about not giving Nate a sibling," she picked at a cuticle.

"You made a huge sacrifice for her," he reminded her gently. "I know how you suffered...after."

"Still do, sometimes," she admitted, barely above a whisper.

"I know," pain twisted his gut.

"Eric's parents...they offered me money...to carry another baby...I couldn't do it," she admitted.

"When?" he was truly shocked.

"About four years ago," she replied. "I wouldn't-couldn't put us through it again."

"Um-us?" Bobby stammered.

"You don't do well with change, and I wasn't about to surrender a second child," her voice was clipped.

"Sorry," he pulled up to her door.

"Don't be," she assured him, sliding across the seat to embrace him. "We're where we're supposed to be."

The melancholy mood persisted, even as they made love that night, and into the morning when Bobby left for his appointment with Dr Gyson.

Her patient was quiet, almost sullen, a marked change from his attitude at his last session.

"You seem unsettled," she said tentatively. "Did something happen since Wednesday to..."

"Piss me off?" Bobby's tone was venomous. "The normal life thing...I was pretty hopeful, and then...the age thing comes around to bite me."

"What specifically about the age thing?" she prodded.

"Having children," he sighed. "I always told myself I didn't want to pass on anything in my gene pool, especially after finding out my family tree...even more fucked up than I imagined. But now Alex and I are...involved, and I see her with her nieces and nephews...she'd make a wonderful mother."

"Have you talked to her about it?" she asked.

"Last night," he said shortly.

"And?" Gyson felt as though she was pulling teeth.

"And...nothing. She feels like the age thing...she's forty-five...we missed our chance," Bobby stared into space.

Something in his manner made her back away from the subject, "So, tell me about what made you feel...hopeful...was the term you used."

"Work...has been going well. We've got our rhythm back, and there was an indictment handed down this week. Not getting as frustrated, or maybe I'm just coping better," a ghost of a smile curved his lips.

"Anything else?" the doctor suspected more.

"Alex and I...it's better than I could ever imagine," he confessed.

"So the intimacy has brought up this other issue," understanding dawned on her face.

"Enough with the euphemisms, yes, we're having sex," Bobby said, shifting in his seat.

"And that's a good thing, part of a healthy relationship," Gyson reminded him. "The other issues...family, commitment...those things take time. You have to be open with each other. I don't expect that we'll talk about some things in this office, but you do have to share them with Alex. Because being open with her is the key to your drawbridge, good or bad."

Alex spent her morning on the phone, honing the guest list. She never failed to be surprised at the varied backgrounds of Bobby's friends. One thing they all had in common: they loved her partner, and were anxious to make his birthday memorable. She was touched by the sheer number and generosity of his friends, from offers of food and money, to musicians who wanted to be part of the entertainment. She enlisted Josh to hack into Bobby's computer contact list.

"But...detective...that's, um, I still remember the last time I did that," he stammered.

"Josh, if I thought I could do it and not get caught, I would. You like Detective Goren, don't you?" she asked.

"I respect him and gosh, he's such a legend..." Josh said.

"And you're afraid of him," she sighed.

"Yeah, I am," the computer tech agreed.

"I want him to have the most marvelous birthday party, and I need your help. If I don't get it, I'll just find someone else," her tone was casual.

"I'll do it," he said quietly. "And you want it to be a surprise, right?"

"If the secret leaks out, you'd better be afraid of me," she warned. Alex hung up, feeling a little guilty for taking advantage. She felt the beginnings of a headache, and the pouring rain outside precluded her usual run. She was considering a trip to the gym, when her cell rang.

"Hey, gorgeous, up for lunch?" Bobby sounded a bit happier than when he left this morning.

"I am, but I need to hit the treadmill, hard," she said.

"I was thinking of picking up a basketball game at the gym," he admitted.

"Let's have a decadent lunch, and then burn it off," Alex laughed.

They pigged out on pasta, then went their separate ways, her to the weights and elliptical, and Bobby to the basketball court. Alex finished first, showered and dressed, then went to watch her partner in action. She watched in amusement as he pounded down the court. He might be ten or fifteen years older than some of the other players, but he played with his whole heart.

After Bobby got cleaned up, they made a run through the rain to the train, reluctant to have the weekend end. "Well, I left my dry cleaning at your place," he laughed.

"We don't have to spend every night together," Alex was in his lap in the recliner in her living room. They were waiting for pizza delivery.

"Maybe we could split our time, your place one night, mine the next," he chuckled, his lips and tongue teasing her neck, and the sensitive place behind her ear.

"Mm hmm," she divested him of his shirt and straddled his lap."How long before the pizza gets here?"

"About a half hour or so," he groaned as he removed her shirt and cupped her breasts."Love that you left the bra off."

"Plenty of time for a quickie, don't you think?" she unzipped his jeans, and reached inside his underwear.

Bobby groaned and arched against her hand, "Yeah, baby...let me get at you."

She wiggled a bit, allowing his fingers to move her shorts and panties aside, while she used her hand to guide him inside her. "Can't get enough of you," she whispered as they moved together.

They were still in that position twenty minutes later when the doorbell rang, "Of all the times for them to be early," he groaned, lifting her off him, and zipping his pants. Alex reached for her discarded shirt and pulled it over her head, then stumbled to the couch.

Pizza, sodas and the eleven o'clock news, and then off to bed.

"Great weekend," he murmured, kissing her goodnight.

"Um, I love you," her voice was sleepy.

"Love you too," he sighed.

Monday morning was business as usual. Alex managed to check in with Josh when Bobby would leave for a bathroom break or take a phone call. Her phone was loaded with texts and email responses. She decided that electronic mail and text was probably the most efficient way to get the word out, rather than bothering with paper invites and snail mail.

By Friday, the entertainment was confirmed; live music courtesy of five of Bobby's friends. They refused to take a dime. Liz had emailed a budget and the menu. By the next week, several of the guests contributed financially, either by pressing it directly into her hand, or via snail mail. There were notes that accompanied the money, heartfelt missives describing how something Bobby had said or done over the years impacted their lives.

It was hard to keep them hidden from him, and she finally resorted to letting the captain keep the notes and monies in his office safe. As Joe put the latest bundle of cards and notes away, he confronted Alex about the whole party thing.

"This is an awful lot of work for you, Alex," he broached the subject cautiously.

She weighed her words carefully, "He doesn't have any family, really. Bobby gives so much of himself to people, more than we even know. Virtually all his life, he had to look out for himself. His friends are his family. I am so lucky to have the family, the support system I do. This party isn't just for his birthday. It's to...honor him, as a man, as a friend."

"You love him," the captain said flatly.

"Expect me to deny it? Well, I won't. He's my dearest friend," she said vehemently.

Bobby felt himself getting more and more introspective as his birthday approached. The big 5-0, a half century. Sure, his life was pretty good right now, arguably better than any other time in his life. He'd conquered a lot of demons, and he had his relationship with Alex. He thought about Ben Laurette, the architect with three wives. He'd told Alex that the man's milestone birthday left him considering his legacy.

She sensed his mood, and tried to give him space accordingly. They spent a few nights apart, but then would find themselves having marathon conversations on the phone the nights they didn't share a bed.

Alex pondered the ideal gift for his birthday, wanting to give him something tangible. He wasn't really into jewelry, he loved books and music and old cars. The busted radio in the Shelby gave her an idea. After a hurried conversation with Lewis, she decided to have it retrofitted for satellite radio, as well as install a CD player. Alex crept out of bed before six the morning of Bobby's birthday and passed her spare car key into Lewis' hand. The plan was for Lewis to install the radio, and bring the Shelby back by noon.

Alex slipped back into Bobby's apartment, and rummaged through her bag. She drew out one of her purchases from La Petit Coquette, and pulled it over her head. The pale green silk hugged her body, and barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. She warmed a huge blueberry muffin in the microwave, and stuck a lit candle in it. The thin light of dawn was filtering through the blinds when she tiptoed into the bedroom.

Bobby was on his back, still asleep. She climbed astride his thighs, carefully holding the muffin. She began singing "happy birthday" loudly enough to wake him.

His mouth curved into a grin, but he didn't open his eyes.

"C'mon, I know you're awake," she giggled. "Make a wish and blow out the candle before it fries the muffin."

He laughed aloud, opening his eyes, "I was hoping you forgot what day this was."

"No way," Alex grinned.

He sat up and blew out the candle, "Happy now?"

"Depends, did you make a wish?" she fed him a bite of the muffin.

"I did, even though it's already come true," he pulled her mouth to his, sharing his bite of food with her. He pulled back, and caught a finger in the skinny strap of her lingerie, "Lovely wrapping on my birthday present."

"What makes you think I'm your present?" she teased, feeding him another bite.

Bobby bit her fingertips lightly, "Only one I need."

They finished the muffin, using their fingers and tongues as makeshift utensils. An hour later, they were tangled in a heap of sweaty limbs.

"Feel any older?" Alex chuckled.

"No, ma'am," he was playing with her hair. "More like a horny teenager, and it's. All. Your. Fault," he punctuated his words with kisses.

"I second that emotion," she sighed.

"So, what do you want to do today?" he was tracing lazy circles on her belly.

"It's _**your**_ birthday," she reminded him.

"I seem to remember something you said, about this dinner, seduction..." he mused.

"And a cute little purchase from a certain lingerie shop," she twirled the piece of silk by a strap. The seduction dinner is later," she smiled. "We're going out to lunch, and a concert this afternoon."

"We have to get dressed, then," he sighed in disappointment.

"Yes, but we can have a little nap, a little fun in the shower this morning," she yawned.

They left the apartment a little after one. Alex got behind the wheel of the Shelby and turned the key. She reached under the dash and flipped a switch. Jazz music filled the car.

"What the...you fixed the radio?" he was incredulous.

"Well, technically Lewis did, and I paid for it. It's three years of satellite radio, and a CD player," she grinned. "Happy birthday!"

He looked over the program guide and fiddled with the tuner, "Wow, this-this is great!"

"So you like it?" she asked.

"I love it," he laughed like a little boy. "We don't need to go to the concert, we can have our own concert right here in the back seat," Bobby said suggestively.

"Down, boy," she grinned. "We can file that little fantasy away for another day."

"So where is this place we're going for lunch?" he wondered. "Looks kind of residential."

She made another turn and then maneuvered the car up a hill, and into a narrow alley, "We're here," she put the car in park, and led him into the back of the building. Soft strains of jazz wafted down the hall. She took his hand and whispered, "Trust me."

He looked at her quizzically as he held the door open for her.

The wave of voices took him back a step, "Surprise!"

She watched him anxiously, as the look of shock was replaced by incredulity then joy as he recognized familiar faces. Jimmy Deakins was shaking his hand, Angie Deakins hugged him. Ron Carver and his wife. Joe and Sharon Hannah. The Eames family. Mike Logan with a woman who looked vaguely familiar. Lewis, his mom and his brother Tom. Jack and Claire McCoy. Megan Wheeler. For several minutes, he was nearly swallowed by the crush of well-wishers. "Did you arrange all this?" he managed to ask Alex.

"With a lot of help," she admitted, kissing his cheek, mindful of the stares.

"Thank you," he held her tightly.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "Speech, speech!" Bobby was swept along to the front of the room, where his friend Moses handed him a microphone.

"I, uh, Christ, I don't know what to say. Th-thank you all for coming. It's so good to see old friends," he paused, searching for her face in the crowd. "Kind of a milestone, I guess, fifty years of living. I know a lot of work went into this. One person I want to acknowledge, the best gift I ever got...my partner, my best friend, my heart...Alex Eames."

There were cheers and applause, and the tears Alex had been fighting spilled over.

The party lasted through the afternoon and far into the evening. People stayed and visited, danced, ate and enjoyed a few drinks.

"So, who's the woman with Logan?" Deakins asked.

"His wife, Gina," Alex laughed.

"Wife? Never thought I'd see the day," Jimmy shook his head.

"They dated years ago, back when we investigated that prison guard's murder," Bobby said. "Guess they hooked up when, last year?"

Alex nodded, "She's a nurse practitioner at a clinic on the west side. Gina said they eloped a couple months ago."

It was after ten before the party broke up. The back seat of the Shelby was loaded with gifts, cards, and a basket of food.

Alex was dozing in the passenger seat as Bobby steered towards Brooklyn, "Sorry I lied to you, sweetie."

"What lie? You told me we were going to lunch and a concert," he chuckled. "I still can't believe how you pulled it off."

"You really were surprised?" she yawned.

"Truly stunned," Bobby out his hand on her thigh.

"I worried, because I know you don't like to be the center of attention," she said, "And, boy, it was a hard secret to keep the last two weeks."

"Two weeks? So many people showed up," he still was incredulous.

"Well, I poached your contact list from your phone, and got Josh to hack into your contacts on your work computer," she admitted.

"How did you get him to...?" he queried.

"Threats," she said succinctly. "I was on a mission."

They unloaded the car, and collapsed into bed.

"You'll get your seduction dinner tomorrow night," she murmured against his chest.

"We have all those great leftovers, baby," he kissed the top of her head. "I just wanted to tell you one last thing," he turned to his side and tucked her close. "Thank you for the best birthday. Has to be the most loving thing anyone ever did for me," he was choked up.

"It was my pleasure," she kissed him goodnight.

_**Our dear Bobby survived turning 50, thanks to his trusty partner and lover. Next chapter, we will continue the fluff and smut fest, along with the therapy, family and a little case file now and then. Eventually Bobby and Alex will deal with the challenge of having a hot affair without the brass figuring it out. I try to aim for a once a week update, but it depends on my muse and my life. This little tome is far from finished :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**I'm watching "Smile" tonight as I'm editing this, and it always kind of struck me as a shippy kind of ep, especially from Alex's point of view. She did **_**not****_ like Leslie LeZard. Okay, back to 2011 and our story. This includes the continuation of Bobby's birthday celebration (the adult one), a new case to vex our detectives, family, therapy...yada, yada. I do not own them, just borrowing. The M rating still applies._**

Alex woke to an empty bed. She found Bobby in the living room, reading through the stack of cards and notes from the party yesterday.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she pressed a kiss on his ear.

"Morning," he wiped a bit of dampness from his eyes.

"What?" she was concerned.

He picked up a handful of the greetings "I had no idea...how many friends..." he was choked up.

"Doesn't surprise me," Alex said softly, stroking his hair.

"Things that...I didn't know how much I help..." he fumbled with the words.

"Look at me," she said quietly. "For so many years, there were...forces in your life, that made you doubt your place in the world. Yes, it was your birthday yesterday, but I wanted you to know...you _**matter**_, and to a lot more people than me. That you are loved and cherished. You talk about legacies...it's not about tangible things, children, monuments. It's about living your life knowing that maybe by one word, one act, one person is left better by you being here."

He pulled her into his arms, sobs muffled into her shoulder.

She gently stroked his scalp, his neck, making soothing sounds.

"I musta done something right," he sniffed. "'Cause I have you."

"Um hmm," she rubbed her face in his hair. "So, are you gonna feed me breakfast?"

He reached past her to his partially-eaten plate of party leftovers, picked up a piece of prosciutto-wrapped melon, and fed it to her.

"For breakfast?" she chewed.

"Oh, would you rather have marinated artichokes? Or tiramisu?" he teased. "There's some very nice salami, bocconcini or maybe some pepperoncini."

"I should have yogurt and coffee," she demurred, but snatched an olive and tore off a piece of crusty bread.

"It'd be a crying shame to let this food go to waste," he grinned, biting into a mini muffaletta.

"It would but...you have to save room for dinner later," she took the last bite of the sandwich before it disappeared into his mouth.

"Thief," he mumbled, his mouth full.

"Such talk," she laughed. "What time are you supposed to see Gyson?"

"Uh, two o'clock," he began to nibble at her shoulder.

"Take her some cake," she sighed.

Bobby grumbled, "Don't want to talk about her, want to talk about this dinner thing."

"It's still your birthday weekend, and I thought we'd have a little private dinner celebration tonight," she breathed, running the tip of her tongue in his ear.

"Private?" he chuckled. "As in seduction, clothes optional?"

"Oh, there'll be clothes," she breathed, "A few select garments."

He pushed the green silk nightie over her head, then hauled her beneath him on the couch, "Or we could have a naked brunch."

"That too," her breath hitched as she shoved his briefs off and shifted her position , endeavoring to torment him with her mouth and hands.

"Jesus, Alex!" he closed his eyes in abject pleasure.

"Just a little preview," she breathed, extending her tongue.

Bobby's hips flexed, "Main event," he groaned, moving her back up into a kiss.

Their bodies joined, balancing rather recklessly at times on the couch, until they goaded each other into release.

"So, no hints about this little soiree?" he teased as they showered and dressed.

"Sexy food, sexy clothes...an evening of pure pleasure," she ran her hands down his chest.

"Maybe I should skip therapy today, because you're doing such a good job..." he ran his hands under her shirt.

"Not a chance, mister," she laughed. "And I'm serious, take her some cake., as a thank you from me."

"Thank you?" he was quizzical.

"For helping you with your recovery, which has given me amazing benefits," she swooned a bit as he grabbed her butt.

"I'm not going to tell her that part," he objected.

"It's okay to talk about me in therapy," she said matter-of-factly.

"Even our sex life?" he countered.

Alex looked at him, considered, "Anything that helps you, Bobby."

"Um, my girlfriend, Alex thought you'd enjoy this. "It's, um, a slice of my birthday cake."

Dr Gyson was surprised and touched by Bobby's offering, "Thank you, Robert." She put it away in the little office fridge. She indicated his usual seat. "You seem much happier than last week."

"Yeah, it's been an interesting weekend," he began. "Alex..hosted a surprise party for me yesterday."

"Surprise parties can be disconcerting," Gyson commented.

Bobby nodded, "I was a bit taken aback, but then there were so many people there, a lot of old friends, some I hadn't seen for years. Some buddies, musicians, played all afternoon, Alex's family did the food. It was an incredible day."

"Sounds very nice," she commented.

"It was. There were all these notes and cards. People thanking me for doing something that impacted their lives," he was still astonished by that.  
>"A milestone birthday. We talked about that a bit in our last session. About the concept of family. Of having children. Any thoughts on that?" she asked.<p>

"Alex gave me a unique perspective this morning. That our legacies might not be children or tangible things, just the impact we live on other people's lives." he seemed fascinated by the thought.

"Not the same as having children," Gyson said.

"We have children in our lives," he said soberly, "not _**our**_ children, but...I can see the upside of it being just Alex and me." Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Really?" Gyson wondered.

"We-we have this...our focus is on each other, and we can do what we want, when and where...the mood takes us...without concern about getting a sitter, or being up with a fussy baby all night," he explained.

"Sexual experimentation and developing intimacy," Gyson said. "I do have an observation...you referred to Alex as your girlfriend, rather than your partner.

"She's both, obviously," Bobby mused. "Now that we're a couple...changes my perspective, I guess."

He left the session, thoughts absorbed by the sea change in his relationship with Alex. He'd always been good at compartmentalizing, until this summer. Therapy, age, and loving his partner had shaken that up a little. Well, a lot. And there were times it gave him pause. Today wasn't one of those times.

Bobby let himself into his apartment, to find a note from Alex on the table. "The pleasure of your company is requested for an evening of dining and pleasure in Forest Hills. Drinks and appetizers at five, dinner and other diversions to follow. Dress casual. RSVP not required." He laughed out loud as he reread the missive.

Alex spent her afternoon preparing the menu she'd clipped from a couple magazines last winter. The appetizers were culled from the party leftovers, she cooked the rest. First, she made the dessert: cocoa crème brulee. Next, she prepped the entree and side dishes. With an eye on the clock, she stirred the risotto. She seasoned the steaks. The vegetables were roasting in the oven, where the steaks would finish cooking while they enjoyed the appetizers. She set the risotto aside, and added the chopped lobster meat. The wine was chilling nicely.

She hurried into the bedroom, and spread a butter soft light blanket on the bed, set a multitude of candles on the nightstand and dresser, and found the bottles of oils she'd purchased earlier in the week. She laid out the black silk boxers she'd bought for Bobby, then changed into a black silk teddy, with a matching short sheer peignoir.

Alex was setting out the appetizers when Bobby rang the bell at a few minutes before five.

She hurried to the door, to find him standing there with an armful of red roses.

"Wow!" he gasped.

"What? Oh," she laughed, forgetting her skimpy attire for a moment, as she took the bouquet. "Do you like it?' she asked shyly.

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled, reaching out to finger the sheer fabric.

She closed the door, and walked into the kitchen to put the roses in a crystal vase, "Thanks, you didn't have to," she smiled.

"Wanted to," he said, still mesmerized by her sexy outfit. He cleared his throat, "Dinner smells great."

"It'll be ready in a little bit," she came over and kissed him lingeringly. "You're overdressed."

"Hey, I'll be happy to strip for you," he smirked, pulling her body tightly to his.

"Nuh-uh, your evening wear is in the bedroom," she shoved him away lightly.

Bobby found the boxers and disrobed, entranced by the atmosphere in the bedroom. He came back into the kitchen, "Do I pass inspection?" he smirked.

"Oh, yeah," she handed him a glass of wine, and indicated the plate of appetizers.

He sat at the little table, watching her work at the stove, "I think I could get used to you cooking in something like that every night," he smiled. "Although we might eat a lot of cold food," he reached out to stroke a thigh as she brushed past him.

Alex slid the seared steaks into the oven to finish cooking, then joined him at the table.

"You could sit on my lap," he suggested, arousal stirring as she leaned over to light a couple candles.

"Dinner before dessert," she laughed, pouring her own glass of wine, sitting in the chair next to him.

They talked about the party, his therapy session as they dined on beef tenderloin, lobster risotto and roasted vegetables.

"This is so good," Bobby praised as he took a last bite of the buttery steak.

"I have to say I was nervous, hadn't made this stuff before," she admitted.

"Sexy food," he chuckled. "And the cook is pretty hot, too."

"The seduction dinner for my smokin' boyfriend," she laughed, getting up to sit in his lap.

"Mmmm," he buried his face in her neck.

"I made dessert," she whimpered as he nibbled her earlobe.

"_**You're**_ my dessert," he put her hand on his erection.

Alex pushed herself off his lap reluctantly, "Give me a minute, I'll meet you in the bedroom."

He lit the candles, then lay back on the bed. Alex appeared in the doorway, looking like a black silk clad angel, the transparent fabric giving her an ethereal appearance. "So what's next on the agenda?' he waved his hand towards the bottle of massage oil she was holding.

"Guess?" her voice was husky.

"A massage? But my muscles are pretty relaxed already," he smirked. "With one notable exception."

"So I see," she said dryly, kneeling on the bed. "How about you lie on your belly?" she murmured. "After these come off," she tugged at the waistband of his boxers.

He chuckled, "Different than the last time you gave me a massage. Does this mean you want me to stay awake for this one?"  
>She brushed her fingertips over his evolving erection, "If you can," her laugh was husky.<p>

He rolled to his stomach, sighing in satisfaction.

Alex let the sheer silk shell drift to the floor, and left the teddy in place. She straddled him and poured a puddle of warm oil over his low back, then began kneading the muscles of his neck, arms and shoulders. Her hands moved lower, tracing each vertebrae, and the taper of his hips to his buttocks.

Bobby felt as though her hands were silk and fire and...The movements became slower, more deliberate as she massaged his buttocks and thighs. He felt heat spread through his body. "Alex," he groaned, fidgeting a bit as she playfully tossed a lick here and there in her ministrations.

"Hmm?" She had moved down his thighs, calves, and feet. She lifted one foot and sucked each of his toes.

Bobby's head thrashed back and forth, "Baby, that's...tickles..."

"More than tickles, I suspect," she smiled, her hand on his hip, easing him to his back.

She straddled his waist, fingertips fluttering over his chest, "Sleepy yet?"

"Hell, no," he groaned, reaching between her thighs to unfasten the teddy.

"No, not yet," she slid back a bit. "Going to massage the front, too," she whispered.

"I'm good, really," he panted. "Totally relaxed."

"Sure you are," Alex laughed out loud, pouring oil onto his chest, then resuming her sensual tending.

Bobby sought out a breast as her hands kneaded his shoulders, his mouth sucking through the black silk, while his fingers plucked at the opposite breast.

"Bobby, oh, babe..." her hands faltered in her task.

He hooked the thin straps with a finger, slipping them off her shoulders, exposing her upper body to him, "I'm naked, what's your excuse?"

"Keeping a little bit of wrapping on your present," she moaned as he splayed his fingers over her breasts.

"I see," he heaved a sigh, hoping he was going to last through this sexual...feast.

Alex made her way backwards, a flash of arousal on her face as her sex rubbed over his. Still, she continued the massage over his belly, down his legs to his feet. She noted with some satisfaction that his extremities were literally twitching with his attempt to maintain control. She kissed the sole of his foot, then moved back up to lie next to him, to kiss him, "Ready?" she traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, while reaching for another small bottle on the nightstand.

"God, yeah," his hips rose. His gaze followed as she poured something into her hand and massaged it onto his erection. "What the _**hell**_...what is that?"

"A personal lubricant that enhances male satisfaction...at least that's what the bottle says," she recited, her hand still moving. "You'll have to tell me if it's true," she added with a smirk.

"Oh, it-it...Jesus, Alex," he was as close to sensory overload as he'd ever been. He was nearly thrashing on the bed, but he caught sight of another bottle. "Wha...is this one for you?" his hand was shaking as he reached over her for it.  
>"Tonight's about <em><strong>your<strong>_ pleasure," she rasped.

"_**Our**_ pleasure," he groaned. "Help me open it."

Alex's felt herself shaking in anticipation as she opened the bottle.

He took it from her and poured a small stream into his palm, then reached between her thighs and caressed her, seeing her eyes dilate with pleasure. "Tell me how it feels."

"Like the most intense..." her words ended in a strangled sob.

He rolled her onto her back and entered her, unable to wait any longer. He grabbed onto the headboard and brought her into a half-sitting position as they moved together, eyes locked. Their release was so loud, surely anyone awake in the adjoining apartments heard it.

Alex wasn't entirely sure that she didn't pass out in the last few seconds, as she lay in Bobby's arms.

He was totally malleable as the red haze of his orgasm receded, "Ever heard of la petit mort?" he panted.

"Yep, and I'm pretty sure that was just where I was," she breathed.

"Me, too," he groaned. "I know the market is tanking, but we ought to buy stock in that stuff."  
>She giggled, "Or we could make one of those commercials. Make a million bucks"<p>

"Right," Bobby was amused. "Preview it for the brass, then tell 'em to go to hell."

"Videotape their reactions," Alex added. "Screw the regs."

"Pretty sure we've been doing that for a while," he yawned.

"Tired?" her kisses were gentle.

"Aren't you?" he murmured, burying his face against her neck

"Um hmm," she snuggled her head in the crook of his arm, spooning against him. "Love you."

"Love you, too, baby," he whispered. "Best birthday ever."

"You're welcome," she grinned drowsily.

And though it wasn't eight o'clock, they fell into an exhausted stupor.

Bobby woke a little after one, extinguished the candles, then went to the bathroom. He recalled Alex saying that she wasn't going to survive if the sex was like their first time every time. "Damn straight," he muttered. He couldn't believe he was hungry after the dinner they'd had. He rummaged in the fridge and found the crème brulee that they hadn't taken time to eat earlier. He found a spoon and took a bite. Really good, he decided.

"There's the man who didn't want dessert," she came up behind him, squeezing an arm around his waist.

The teddy was gone, and she was wearing just the sheer peignoir. Bobby's boxers were still somewhere on the bedroom floor.

"Burned enough calories that we need more sustenance," he spooned the rich treat into her mouth.

"That's crazy good," she licked the spoon.

"Would you like to take this back to bed?" he fed her another bite.

"Oh, yeah," she took him by the hand.

Two bowls, one spoon, they shared the cold creaminess, then crawled under the covers.

Monday morning arrived too soon to suit Bobby and Alex. He was shaving while she was trying to apply her makeup, each jockeying for position at the bathroom mirror. Their height difference helped in the close quarters of the bathroom.

Major Case was occupied not only with the Epstein fraud case, some European diplomat's daughter disappeared after her first week at NYU. And a female body was discovered at nine-thirty this morning, in a dumpster near One PP.

Captain Hannah doled out assignments, saying, "Don't all jump at once."

"Kind of sick of dealing with the privileged upper crust," Bobby muttered.

"We'll take the DB in the dumpster," Alex spoke up.

"Dumpster diving, great way to start the week," Bobby said, poking around, sniffing the corpse's hands.

"Hey, we could have been hobnobbing European diplomats," she teased. "Anything besides garbage?" she inquired dryly.

"Um, something sweet, lime, cherry brandy," he took another whiff. "Butter and salt."

"College girls cherry limeade and popcorn," Alex opined.

"Could be," he looked at the vic's clothes. "Jeans, nice shirt. Still has her shoes on. No obvious signs of sexual assault. And she doesn't match the description of the diplomat's kid."

Alex gazed at the collection of rotting garbage pulled from the overflowing dumpster, "No purse or ID." She looked at the shoes, "Jimmy Choo's, not a lot of wear on the soles but scuff marks on the sides. Killer could have dragged her. What do we have here?" she gently untangled a white gold necklace and diamond star pendant from the girl's butterscotch hair. "This looks familiar, like something I've seen in an ad or in a magazine lately."

One of the CSU techs, Angie, overheard, "That's Kwiat, retails between one and two grand. What can I say? I like bling."

"It's pretty," Alex slipped the jewelry in an evidence bag. "Any ideas on the rings?" One was a braided white and yellow gold band on her right thumb, the other looked like a ruby and diamond ladybug on her left index finger.

Angie shook her head, "Nah, looks like old estate junk."

"Robbery was not the motive, I guess," Alex left the rings intact as the hands were bagged.

"Run her through the system to see if we get any hits, also check missing persons," Bobby was covering their metal checklist aloud. "She's got ink, inside right forearm and left shoulder."

Once the crime scene was released, they made their way uptown to interview wits in the Epstein case. They were unable to see the daughter, Barbara Hall, because she was recovering from an emergency C section that morning. They had better luck connecting with Epstein's son, Jonah.

He was at his place of employment, a graphic design agency on west 57th. "I don't know what else I can tell you, detectives."

"Is there anyone that comes to mind that would have access to your family's finances?" Alex queried.

Jonah shook his head, rubbed at a few days' worth of stubble, "Sorry, my brain is a little fried. Been at the hospital with Barbie and Greg. The only people I can think of are the ones I told you about last week."  
>Bobby nodded, "We heard your sister had her baby. Everything okay?"<p>

"Uh, yeah, a little boy," Jonah's face lit up. "He's little but a fighter, weighed three pounds, seven ounces."

"Makes you an uncle," Alex smiled.

"Yep, first time," Epstein nodded, showing them a picture on his phone.

"Wow, tiny," Bobby commented with a grin.

"Look at the little face and all that dark hair," Alex added.

"At least he came out at thirty weeks instead of twenty-five," Jonah sighed in relief.

The interview ended when the Rodgers texted Alex, "Post done on your Jane Doe."

In the morgue, Dr Rodgers reviewed the autopsy, "Well nourished white female, estimated age 22 years. COD was blunt force trauma to the right occiput, causing cerebral hemorrhage. Liver temp indicates she's been dead about nine hours. No sign of sexual activity or assault. BAL was negative, remainder of tox screen pending. Scar on abdomen consistent with a low transverse C section approximately a year ago. The ink she had was unremarkable, rose on her left shoulder, and the name Brian on her forearm."

"Brian could be a boyfriend, husband, or her child," Bobby ruminated.

Alex nodded, "Someone has to be missing her. How come the fast turnaround on this girl?"

"When she's found within spitting distance of One PP, she gets put to the head of the class," the ME said sarcastically. "Trace is working on her clothes and shoes."

The detectives left the morgue, walking in somber silence.

"Want to get some lunch?" Alex said.

"Maybe something to go, so we can search the databases, look at surveillance video," he agreed.

They chewed on Chinese while reviewing missing persons reports, both statewide and nationwide. "She could have come into the city for the weekend, and her family didn't expect her home til later today," Alex considered.

Bobby hauled himself out of his chair, "Let's see if the vid guys have anything for us."

No clues on the discs from around One PP, no hits on the jewelry.

Josh came bounding into the vid room around six thirty, "Detectives, I think I may have a lead on your fraud case."

"Great!" Alex stretched and yawned.

"May I?" he pointed at the keyboard.

"Have at it, Simmons," Bobby invited.

"Uh, detective...happy birthday," Josh fumbled. "I mean, a couple days late."

"Thanks," Bobby grinned. "And thanks for helping my partner with the party. We didn't see you there."

"My girlfriend's parents were here from Arizona, so...were you really surprised?" he wondered.

"Really," Bobby said firmly. "Now, the Epstein case?"

"Oh, yeah! When I went digging into the family records, I found that Epstein has three kids, not two. A daughter, born ten years before he married his first wife. Sedona Mariah Everett."

"What is it with these secret spawn?" Alex groaned. "You know where she is?"

"She grew up in Bangor, Maine, but she lives in New Haven, Connecticut. She's married to a Gordon Raider, has a couple kids," Josh informed them.

"Raider. Great name for a thief," Bobby scanned the records on the screen.

"Thief is right. Raider works for the same brokerage firm as Epstein senior," she pointed out. "Son of a bitch."

Joe walked by, seeing the detectives having an animated discussion in vid conference, "Hey, don't you have homes to go to?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby waved a hand. "Simmons may have just busted our fraud case."

Hannah looked at the monitor, "I'll be damned. Why don't you take a run up there in the morning and see what they have to say for themselves?"

"Will do, boss," Alex agreed.

"In the meantime, get the hell out of here. Oh, and if I didn't say it this morning, great shindig Saturday," the captain's eyes twinkled.

As they were powering down their computers, Bobby's desk line rang.

"Don't answer it," Alex hissed.

He shot her an apologetic look as he picked up, "Major Case, Detective Goren." His expr4ession changed as he scribbled a quick note. "Got it." he hung up. "ID on our Jane Doe."

"Who is she?" Alex sighed.

"Mariah Raider, age 20, from New Haven, Connecticut," he replied.

"No fucking way," she said in disbelief. "Our fraud vic's _**granddaughter**_?"

"Looks like," Bobby agreed. "Missing persons wants to know if we want to do the notification."

Alex shut her eyes, "You said we would, right?"

"With the traffic, might take us a couple hours," he demurred. "Sorry."

"The element of surprise might help," she admitted.

It was a quarter to nine when Alex pulled up to the Raider residence. It was a tidy saltbox, with electric candles at each window. A woman of about forty answered the door, a baby in her arms.

"Ma'am, are you Sedona Raider? We're detectives from New York City," Bobby said, he and Alex flashing their badges. "Could we come in?  
>Her face crumbled in fear, "I uh, yes, I'm Sedona," her voice rose a few pitches. "Gordon, the police are here."<p>

They followed her into a comfortable living room. Toys were scattered on the floor, a playpen in the corner. A tall man of about fifty stood and took the now wailing child from his wife's arms. "I'll go put him down."

"It's...it's my baby, isn't it?" the woman quavered, collapsing into a wing back chair.

"Is Mariah Raider your daughter?" Alex asked gently.

"Yes, she is. She-she was going to New York to see her boyfriend yesterday. And wh-when she wasn't here this morning to take Brian to the sitter...I knew something was wrong," she buried her face in her hands.

"Brian, your grandson?" Bobby asked.

"Mariah's little boy. He-his birthday was last week," she explained. _**"What happened to my daughter?"**_

Bobby pulled the morgue shot from his binder and showed it to Mrs Raider, "Is this her?"

She nodded, "Yeah. What...did Curtis do this to her?"

"Curtis?" Alex wondered.

"Mariah's boyfriend, Brian's father," Sedona explained. "He...Curtis has-had a drug problem. They broke up because of it. Supposedly he went to rehab and was clean. Curtis is a sweet kid...except when he's drunk...or high," her tone was bitter.

"Your daughter use?" Alex prompted.

"No," Sedona's was adamant. "I think that was the attraction-she was trying to save him. Oh, my God...how am I going to tell Brian his mommy...isn't coming...home?" she wept.

Gordon Raider came back into the room, and comforted his wife. He wore an expression of abject misery.

The grieving parents readily gave them their alibis, and the address for Curtis as well as his parents. Bobby got behind the wheel for the return trip to Brooklyn.

"They were totally blown away by this," Alex sighed.

"Yeah," he signaled a lane change and accelerated. "Might have a connection to Epstein's money, but we can chase that tomorrow."

It was nearly midnight before he parked the SUV near his apartment and walked Alex in.

"I am so tired and so hungry," she groaned, kicking off her shoes and dropping clothing as she walked towards the kitchen.

He locked up and followed her, pulling party leftovers out of the fridge, "Beer, wine or soda?"

"Beer," she said through a mouthful of bread and cheese, now clad in bra and panties.

He piled food on a tray and popped open a couple cold bottles, "How 'bout dinner in bed?"

"Sounds like a plan," she took a long swallow of brew.

They mowed down, not even bothering to take the tray back to the kitchen when they were finished.

"Ugh," Alex groaned in the morning. "I think I fell asleep with cake in my mouth."

Bobby emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and tossed a pillow at her, "Hurry up or you're gonna lose your ride."

"Says the man who had to answer his goddamn phone last night," she snarked.

"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" he smirked.

"Get out of my face," she muttered as she dove for the shower.

They spent the morning bringing Hannah up to speed and contacting Mariah's boyfriend. Curtis Renfield seemed genuinely devastated by Mariah's murder, and had a bullet-proof alibi-he was a bartender in a bustling West Village bar, with a multitude of patrons and employees to vouch for him. He also provided them with a very interesting bit of information: Mariah was aware who her grandfather was, and had plans to meet him in the city Sunday evening. "I wanted to go with her, but she said she had to see him on her own. Something about money," he put his head in his hands.

"She trying to shake him down?" Bobby was direct.

"No,_** no**_! She's not that kind of girl! Not sure, but think it had something to do with her dad. Too many goddamned secrets in that family," his tone was bitter.

They left Curtis and plotted their next move. "Think it's time to pay Mr Stephen Epstein a visit," Alex said.

They found him outside the NICU at Mt Sinai, at the scrub sink next to his daughter and son in law. "Mr Epstein, we need to talk to you about the murder of one of your family members," Bobby got straight to the point.

Epstein stopped scrubbing his hands and turned to them in surprise, "Who?"

"Your granddaughter," Alex said succinctly.

"Detective, the only grandchild I have is a grandson and he's in there," he waved a hand. "Safe and sound."

Bobby walked over to him and bent to look him square in the face, "Maybe you'd like to speak to us alone."

Epstein glanced at his daughter's worried expression, "It's some kind of mistake. Go on in and cuddle my grandson."

They walked down the hall to a family consultation room. Epstein was obviously angry.

"What business did you have saying that kind of garbage in front of my kid?"

"Garbage? Since when is the truth garbage?" Bobby spat.

He leveled a stare at him, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about?"

"We know, Mr Epstein. About your daughter Sedona. We met her last night," Alex's diction was deadly. "She seems like a nice person. Of course, it was kind of hard to tell, since we had to tell her her daughter had just been _**murdered**_."

"Mur-murdered?" he had the grace to look ashamed. "Was it Mariah or Melisande?"

"So you _**do**_ know them," Bobby shook his head.

"I-no, not really. Just their names. Sedona...was lost to me a long time ago," his gaze shifted.

"Ever met your granddaughters?" Alex prodded.

"_**No**_, I told you," Epstein was pissed.

"Really? Because we heard that Mariah was in the city to see you this weekend," Bobby's voice dripped acid.

"I never saw her, wouldn't know her if I passed her on the street," the man ground the words out.

"How very sweet," Alex sniped. "Such devotion to the little one in the NICU, just no time for the others."

"If you have anything more to say to me, call my lawyer," he practically threw a business card at them and stormed back down the hall.

"Think we should go after him?" Alex wondered. "Bobby?"

"No...just, no. Let's get the fuck out of here," He got to his feet and strode towards the elevator, anger coming off him in waves.

The silence in the SUV was deafening. Her attempts to engage him in conversation produced only monosyllabic responses.

"Look, you can't let that asshole get to you," she said quietly.

"I know," he muttered, at length. "'wouldn't know them if he saw them on the street.'"

"Pissed me off, too, Bobby," she tentatively reached for his hand.

He tried to shake off his anger, focusing instead on her thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.

"Better?" she asked as she swung the SUV into traffic.

"Uh-huh," his mind wandered back to Sunday night, the feel of their bodies together...he felt his groin tighten.

"Just thinking," he tapped his fingers restlessly against his binder.

"'Bout what?" she wondered.

He shifted towards her, ran his hand under her skirt."Sunday night."

"Why didn't you say so?" she muttered under her breath.

"Uh, turn up there," he indicated the next block.

"Okay," she assented, unsure if what he wanted was going to help.  
>"We're pretty close to my place," his tone was tense.<p>

"Uh huh," she inhaled sharply, finding a parking spot a block away.

They strode up the street, to all appearances in a hurry to interview a witness, or catch the subway.

He slammed the door and shoved her up against it, unzipping his pants with one hand.

"Bobby," she groaned as he pushed her skirt up, moved her panties aside. "Not sure if I'm ready..."

"Feel ready to me," he said roughly, guiding himself into her.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids as she braced herself for his body's assault. The initial shock was rapidly displaced by baser sensations. She gripped his shoulders as he lunged into her over and over.

Bobby felt an all-consuming fire, some deep force driving him. His brain was screaming to slow down but his body wasn't listening.

She shivered, excitement washing any residual fear away, "Keep going," she squeaked.

Bobby finished quickly, still holding her against the door, then he started to sob, "I'm sorry, baby, sorry."

Her own body was quivering, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

They were frozen against the door, deeply shaken, when the building began to shudder.

"What the...?" Bobby groaned.

"An attack?" Alex's mind tried to process it.

"Maybe...maybe...earthquake?" he muttered.

"Maybe we should..." she tried to push him away.

"If it is an earthquake, safest place is here," Bobby said in her ear as he set her on her feet.

They leaned together until the movement subsided. They tried to tidy up their clothes, and made their way to the couch. Alex reached for the remote. CNN was confirming a quake in the DC area. "Gives a whole new meaning to 'the earth moved,'" she snarked.

Bobby put his head in her lap, regret rampant on his face, "I shouldn't have...so sorry."

"Sorry you caused an earthquake?" she stroked his hair absently.

He reared up, "Sorry I damn near rape-"

She slapped her hand to his mouth, "Don't you ever,_** ever**_ say that, damn it." Her expression was fierce. "If I didn't want you, I would have said so."

"But all I wanted was..." he sighed.

"An angry fuck against the door?" she suggested.

Bobby barked out a shocked laugh.

She grinned at the look on his face, "It's okay to want that once in a while."

"I don't think you got as much out of it as I did," he said regretfully.

"It doesn't always have to be about me," she kissed him carelessly.

Bobby pushed her skirt up, "I think I kind of trashed this."

"Probably," she tried to get off the couch as their cells started ringing. "We have to call in."

"In a minute," he undressed her from the waist down.

"We can't," she moaned, realizing his intent.

"We will," his tongue snaked up her thigh.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as he satisfied her, knowing that it wasn't worth arguing when he was like this.

"Better now?" she asked as she got her breath back.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"We have to go back to the office," she groaned.

He helped her off the couch and they went into the bathroom to clean up. Alex grabbed a couple cartons of yogurt and some fruit on the way out to the SUV.

Their mildly disheveled appearance escaped notice as One PP was buzzing over the earthquake coverage.

Alex got a text from her brother Patrick a little after six, "Quake party tonight at Chez Eames in Islip. BYOB."

"Quake party. What the hell?" she muttered.

"Sounds like fun," Joe chuckled. They were in the conference room discussing the latest twists in the Epstein case.

"I've heard of hurricane parties," Bobby commented.

"If the weather geeks are right, we might be doing that next weekend," Alex commented, preparing to text her brother back.

Bobby glanced at her, a question in his eyes.

She shook her head nearly imperceptibly.

Joe had to laugh, "Look, you've put in a good couple days of work. Take off, and don't answer your phone." He strolled back to his office.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, fingers poised over the phone.

"Sure, why not? Not every day the earth moves," he grinned, making her blush.

They stopped at a bodega to pick up soda, chips, and sandwiches, then headed to the party. The yard was lit with tiki torches, and the kids were running around, full of chatter about the earthquake.

Jessica was trying to set food out, while dodging her youngest daughter's attempts to toddle around the kitchen.

"Aunt Alex, didja feel the earthquake today?" Four year old Cade ran to hug her legs.

"I did, so did Bobby," she laughed.

"Were you scared?" his eyes were like saucers.

"Nope, not a bit. Were you?" she accepted a cold soda from Patrick and sat in the nearest lawn chair.

"My mom made me take a nap so I missed the _**whole**_ thing," he sounded disgusted.

"Aw, that's too bad," Bobby sympathized. "Maybe next time."

"Let's hope there isn't a next time," Liz commented wryly.

"Hey, cheer up, maybe we'll have a visit from Irene this weekend," Eric laughed.

"All these idiots on TV, acting like the world is ending," Johnny grumbled. "Earth moves a little, we'll get some rain and wind, ain't Armageddon."

"But Grandpa, my teacher said we're gonna have a _**horror-cane**_!" Nate objected.

"Bullshit," Johnny grumbled.

"Dad!" that came from both daughters.

"You kids heard a lot worse than that," he shook his head.

"Two parties in a week, hey we're setting a trend," Liz laughed as they sat down to eat.

"Hey, I hope I thanked you ladies for all your hard work Saturday. The food was great," Bobby said warmly.

"Anything for a brother," Liz smirked. "And we had a blast, didn't we, girls?"

"We did," Ashley agreed, taking a huge slice of watermelon. "My latest craving," she explained.

The evening passed pleasantly, with weather disaster stories and tall tales. The adults played an impromptu round of volleyball, with the kids running interference. Bobby wanted to drop Alex at her door, but she insisted he stay the night.

"You're sure?" he asked tentatively.

"I sleep better when you're here. And you can save me from nightmares about earthquakes and horror-canes," she added teasingly as they snuggled under the covers.

_**And that's chapter nine. Poor Bobby and Alex, they seem to be getting this run on imperfect fathers and family secrets. And gosh, I seem to be in a bit of a smutty mode lately. Maybe it's LOCI withdrawal. Sigh. I'd love to hear what y'all have to say on the subject.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**And we're at Chapter 10! I can hardly believe it! Bobby will be fighting some serious demons here, which seems appropriate, since I'm watching Endgame right now. And Alex will feel the cumulative effects of these dysfunctional family murders. Case file, socializing...and a deepening relationship between our detectives. Ah, September. Labor Day weekend. Cooler weather. Hotter smut. Okay, in this alternate universe, it's the weekend of Hurricane Irene. I don't own them, because if I did, they'd be on TNT this fall. Or Winter. USA sure doesn't deserve this quality show. **_

_He was gripping her ass, shoving into her over and over. No, no! Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Still, his body was using hers. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to look into the sneering face of Mark Ford Brady. Bobby felt himself falling through space, a scream ripping from his throat._

"Bobby, Bobby, Sweetie, wake up! It's just a bad dream," her voice was in his ear, her hand on his chest. His heart was pounding, he was soaked in sweat. Bobby's eyes struggled to focus, and when he did, Alex was gone. He was lying in her bed, in Forest Hills. Not in Brooklyn. He tried to catch his breath, willing away the specter of his father.

"Here, baby," she was back, pressing a cold damp towel to his face and chest, her hands wiping the sweat away.

He still couldn't speak, just gripped her forearms and pulled her close.

Alex was truly terrified for him. She had been wakened from a dead sleep by his scream, and it seemed like it took forever to shake him from the clutches of his nightmare. His face was pale, and his skin slick with sweat. His heart beat crazily under her ear. "You can tell me about it, if you want to," she said softly, lifting her head off his chest.

He clutched her hand tightly against him, "We-we were back...in my apartment like...earlier. I was...we were up against the door and you were telling me no...but I couldn't hear..." his voice was hoarse, and he was still fighting for breath. "And then Brady was there, pulling me away from you, t-taking you from me.." he sobbed, heaving, bone shaking sobs. "Never want to be him, never want to hurt you."

"Oh, Bobby," she let her breath out in a gusty sigh. "You could never be him. And what happened...you didn't force me."

"Right," he said bitterly.

"Listen to me," she eased him into a sitting position, the lamp throwing her face into shadow. "Everyone has their own way of exorcising their demons. Yesterday...if that was what it took to help you, I was more than willing. Infinitely preferable to you getting hammered, getting in a bar fight, or taking an unnecessary risk on the job." A lopsided grin crossed her face, "And it wasn't like I didn't end up satisfied."

Bobby caressed her face, "You are my blessing, do you know that?"

"And you're mine, every single day. Don't ever forget that," her voice was tender. "Think you can get back to sleep?"

"Dunno," he sighed.

"Let me run you a warm bath," she kissed him, then got out of bed.

He shook his head, "You're tired, baby." He could see the dark circles under her eyes.

"Bath will relax us both," she said over her shoulder.

She left the bathroom dark, with the hall light on. He got into the tub first and she eased in in front of him, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist.

Alex was right, the warm water was soothing to them both. After a half hour, they dried each other off, and she quickly put fresh sheets on the bed.

"Call in sick today," she whispered in his ear.

"I'm fine, really," he shook his head.

The rest of the night passed peacefully.

They spent the morning at the office, working the phones and interviewing the Raider family, including fifteen year old Melisande. They decided Alex would interview the girl, while Bobby talked to the parents.

The teen looked exhausted, her face puffy and eyes bloodshot from hours of weeping.

"I don't know what I can tell you," she sighed, scrubbing at her face with her hands.

"Tell me about your sister, what was she like?" Alex's tone was gentle.

"She was my best friend," Melisande began. "She never acted like I was a pain, or in the way. And she loved Curtis and Brian so much," the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Mariah wanted to marry Curtis, now that he was clean, but Mom and Dad...they didn't approve."

"Did she tell you why she was going to the city Sunday?" Alex prompted.

"She was going to see Curtis," she scowled. "Mom was okay with her going, but Dad...I heard him and Mariah arguing Saturday night."

Alex took a sip of water, carefully phrasing her comment, "If he's anything like my dad, he was probably just trying to protect his little girl."

"Your dad's like that? Even now that you're...?" the girl was incredulous.

"Old?" Alex was amused. "I'll let you in on a little secret, they think you're a little girl even when you're my age."

"Great," Melisande muttered. "He'll never let me out of his sight again." Her face crumpled as she remembered why she was there, "That was mean, I shouldn't have said..."

"It's okay, sweetie," Alex said quietly. "Did you hear what they were arguing about?"

"It didn't make sense," her brow furrowed. "Dad was saying..." she closed her eyes, trying to remember the exact words, "'He never cared about you or your mother before, why should he care now?' Weird, because that wasn't Curtis. I mean, he could be a jerk when he was drinking or using, but he never hit Mariah, and he was respectful to my parents. And he was a good dad to Brian, especially after he got sober."

"Do you think...your dad was talking about someone else?" Alex asked.

Melisande looked puzzled, "I guess. But Mariah didn't know anyone else in the city, just Curtis."

The detective got the girl another soda, and then went to check on Bobby's progress with the parents.

She sensed the temperature in the conference room was heating up, from the father's tense body language and the mother's agitated shifting in her seat. "Mrs. Raider, I think your daughter could use a little comforting right now," she said sympathetically. "Can I take you to her and get you some tea?"

Sedona looked relieved, "Yes, I'd like that."

Bobby stood and braced his hands on the edge of the table, fixing Gordon Raider with a stare. "You said that your daughter was going to see her boyfriend Sunday night."

"Yes, she was. Didn't you talk to him?" Raider asked.

"We did. He has an alibi for the time of the murder," Bobby said.

"So do I," he was adamant.

"Home in bed with your wife," he said sarcastically. "In the course of our investigation, we also found out that your daughter's grandfather lives right here in the city. And you knew it. In fact, she was going to meet him Sunday."

Raider's face was pale, "How-how did you know...?"

"Like I said, we're investigating your daughter's murder," Bobby slapped a computer printout in front of him. "Also, we found out that you work at the brokerage firm that Stephen Epstein uses. Care to explain that?"

"It's a national firm, you can't prove anything by that," he was dismissive.

"What did you want to do, make him pay for abandoning your wife when she was a kid? For not acknowledging his grandchildren?" Bobby hammered.

Raider straightened in his seat, "I fail to see what this has to do with my murdered daughter."

"It gives you a motive for fraud. And people hate losing money. The timing's interesting. Theft. Fraud. Murder," Bobby said.

"You don't have anything, because if you did, I'd be under arrest," the man rose to leave.

Alex detoured to the break room, taking her time making the tea. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now."

"It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from," Mrs Raider admitted, watching Alex dunk the tea bag.

"Lemon or sweetener?" she asked.

"Um, honey," Sedona reached for the bear-shaped bottle and drizzled some into the cup Alex handed her.

She poured about four packets of sugar into her own cup, "Terrible sugar addiction," she admitted with a rueful laugh. "You said that you thought Curtis hurt Mariah," she said cautiously.

Sedona shook her head, "Maybe that was the heat of the moment." She cast her eyes downward as she took a sip of the hot tea. "I don't know who hurt my baby."

"And you're sure she didn't know anyone else in New York?" Alex prodded.

Sedona dropped to the nearest chair, as if her legs could no longer support her, her face ashen.

"Mrs Raider, we know that you were born here, that your father lives here," she said quietly.

"That man was _**never**_ my father," she ground out the words. "He didn't know my children, had no right to. And they didn't know him."

"We've heard evidence to the contrary," Alex said levelly. "I have to ask, where were you on Sunday?"

Her expression was indignant, "I told you. I went to church that morning, and was at my sewing circle all afternoon. Melisande watched Brian. I got home about six, and cooked dinner for my family. My daughter and husband could tell you that."

"And after dinner?" she inquired.

"I did the dishes and bathed Brian. He went down about nine. We'd had a busy day, so we were all in bed by ten," she answered.

"Your husband, too?" she reinforced.

"_**Yes**_," she hissed, angry now. She pushed the tea away, and bit out, "Why are you asking me these questions, why aren't you out finding my daughter's murderer?"

"We have to ask these questions," Alex said. "One last thing, have you had any contact with your birth father lately?"  
>"No! The last time I saw him was in a courtroom, according to my mom. I was all of two. Now take me to Melisande," she rose to leave.<p>

As she was taking Mrs Raider to her surviving daughter, they ran into her equally angry husband, "Let's get the hell out of here, Sedona!"

Bobby, Alex and the captain watched the family leave the bullpen.

"What the hell did you say to them?" Hannah wondered.

"I suggested he had a motive for ripping off his father in law, and that might have gotten his daughter killed," Bobby admitted.

"Great, have any proof of that?" he groaned.

"Nope, but his reaction tells me a lot," he replied.

The captain turned to Alex, "What's your excuse?"

"Oh, I confronted her with the fact that Stephen Epstein was her father, and that Mariah knew it," she explained.

He put his head in his hands, "You're giving me one large Excedrin headache."

"Hey, don't blame us that our DB hooked in with our fraud case, Joe," Bobby said.

"Well, find the connection and solve this, for Chrissakes," Joe said bluntly, dismissing them.

"Let's see if Josh and Ira have anything more for us," Bobby decided as they crossed the bullpen.

"Lunch first," she said firmly.

"Okay," he acquiesced.

Ira scrolled through the electronic footprint of the fraud. "The brokerage firm has pretty good security, but an employee with even half-assed hacking skills could make it happen."

"What about Epstein's financials, say, from this past weekend?" Bobby wondered.

"Don't we need a warrant for that?" Alex said reprovingly.

"We got carte blanche from Epstein by way of a written consent, plus a warrant giving us access to all his accounts to trace the source of the fraud," Ira tapped a few keys. "Here you go."

Alex watched the scroll, pointing out one entry, "Look at that-a withdrawal from an ATM about what, eight blocks from here? At ten o'clock Sunday night."

"Got to be security camera footage available," Bobby muttered.

Ira mused, "You know what really surprises me? Epstein reported a loss of 200 grand, right? This guy is worth over ten million."

"We've met him. Nothing surprises us about this bastard," Alex snarked.

Back in the conference room, they worked out a time-line, scribbling on a dry erase board.

"We know she was alive at nine o'clock, from Curtis' statement," she waved a marker.

"Say she was planning to meet Grandpa dearest downtown. Could show their pics around the bars near the ATM."

"It would give us a little better picture of her movements, and bust Epstein's alibi," Bobby agreed.

"Do you think he killed her?" she wondered.

"He's a son of a bitch, sometimes that's all the motive you need," he countered.

"These are the problems I have: First, why report the fraud in the first place, especially if he knew who took the money? It really is a drop in the bucket in his net worth. And second, this guy is all about secrets. I'll bet you anything his kids don't know about their big sister and her family. Why risk them finding out by reporting missing money stolen by his own son in law? And the biggest thing of all, why kill someone who is a virtual stranger to him?" Alex pondered.

"If she really _**was**_ a stranger. Keep in mind, he knew those girls' names. He impresses me as a man who pretty much keeps his hand on everything, his kids, his money, even if he wasn't attached to them. It's about control. He may not have perceived Raider as a threat because he was inconsequential, just as Sedona was," Bobby said.

"So why kill, or even meet with Mariah?" she pressed.

"Because she threatened his secret," he theorized.

"Think about what the boyfriend said. That Mariah wanted to meet her grandfather, and it was about money. That her father had at least peripheral knowledge of the meeting. And Melisande, the sister. She said that Mariah and her dad had an argument Saturday night about her going into the city. It could be inferred that Gordon Raider knew who she was meeting, and why. It'd give Raider a big fat motive," she reminded him.

"He has an alibi, I couldn't see his wife covering for him if he killed their own daughter," he shook his head.

"Secrets," Alex said firmly. "I think if we find who took that money, we're going to get motive for Mariah's murder."

Daniels stuck his head in briefly, "The video discs will be here in the morning."

"Thanks," Alex said. "You know, we could do a little bar-hopping, show their pictures around.

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

They struck gold at the fifth place. The waitress recognized both Epstein and Mariah from the photos, and put them there from about ten thirty to shortly before midnight Sunday.

"Good memory," Bobby commented.

"It was busy here, and this tool wanted to make sure they got a back booth. Was pretty obnoxious about it, too. Don't think he wanted to be seen with the girl," she flicked Mariah's photo.

"How did they seem? Familiar? Cordial?" Alex wondered.

"She seemed sweet, very polite and well spoken. Nervous. The older guy..." she rolled her eyes. "Total jerk. Very short when I served them. He ordered her a drink, but she didn't touch it. Got the impression he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible," she commented.

"Did you happen to hear any of their conversation?" Bobby inquired.

"She said...'can't you help your own daughter?' Something like that, He just said...'your mother doesn't want any part of me,'" she recalled. "That's all I remember."

Alex showed her one last picture, "Ever seen this guy?"

"Um, don't think so," she shook her head.

"C'mon, you didn't really think you could bust Raider's alibi?" Bobby sighed.

"Covering all the bases. Want a drink? We're off the clock," she motioned towards the bar.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed.

After their second drink, on a hunch, Alex showed Raider's picture to the bartender.

The man thought a minute, then nodded, "Uh, yeah. Sunday night, maybe a little after 12? He was looking for his daughter."

The detectives exchanged a stunned look. "You're sure?" Bobby asked.

"The place had emptied out pretty good, so yeah. I saw a girl that looked like the picture he had leave maybe a little before that. That's what I told him," the man said.

They got his contact information, and left the bar, walking back towards One PP.

"Can't believe it," Bobby muttered.

"I was hoping I was wrong," Alex sighed as they got on the train. By tacit agreement, they spent the night at her place.

Thursday began with a look at the video from the ATM. Epstein was clearly the one who withdrew the money Sunday night. No one else was visible in the frame. "Well, we need to take another run at him, especially with what we learned yesterday," Alex commented.

This time, Epstein came to One PP, his lawyer in tow. "I hope this isn't a waste of my time," he said snidely.

"You tell us," Bobby slapped the ATM photo on the table, as well as the witness statement from the waitress. "Care to change your story?"

Mr Epstein leaned back in his chair and exchanged a glance with his lawyer, "So, I met Mariah for a drink. At _**her**_ request."

"Why?" Alex queried.

"Because she wanted money for her mother," Epstein sighed. "She said Sedona is...sick, needed medical treatment that wasn't covered by insurance."

"Go on," Bobby prodded.

"I told her that the only money they would ever get was the two hundred grand her old man had ripped off from my brokerage account," his tone was vicious.

"So you think Gordon Raider has your money," Alex mused. "Interesting. Because at that point, we hadn't established who hacked your account."

"I have my sources," he said stiffly.

"We just found the money this morning," Bobby slapped another printout in from of him. "If you had proof, it would have been nice to let the police in on it, don't you think?"

"I had my suspicions, not real proof," he admitted. "Now that I have it, I want you to arrest that bastard."

"We're not done talking about your granddaughter," Alex snipped. "How did she react to what you said?"  
>"At first, I don't think she believed me. Then she asked a lot of questions. Did I have proof? Why wouldn't I help my own daughter?" he stumbled over his next few words. "She said she was a mother, and had a baby boy. That if her son needed anything, she'd give her life's blood."<p>

"Good question," Bobby said. "Did you have an answer?"

"No, my son called me, saying that Barbie needed me to come to the hospital. I paid the tab and left around midnight," Epstein said indifferently.

"It was midnight in New York City, and you didn't...call your granddaughter a cab? Walk her to the train?" Alex was incredulous.

"She looked like she could take care of herself. My family needed me," the man was cold. "My car service took me to Mt Sinai, you can check for yourself."

"Oh, we will," Bobby assured him.

They walked into the observation room, where Joe was waiting.

"Jesus Christ," the captain muttered. "Coldest bastard I've run across in a while."

"Too bad," Alex groaned.

"Why?" Joe was curious.

"Thing about this guy, you just know his alibi is going to check out," Bobby answered.

And it did. They sat in the bullpen that afternoon, staring at each other glumly. "So, we have to bust a man who stole money to save his sick wife, because said wife's deadbeat father won't help them financially," Bobby said.

"And we still don't have Mariah Raider's murderer," Alex added. "You know what we have to do."

"Her funeral is tomorrow," he reminded her. "And there's a hurricane about ready to tear up the coast."  
>"If her father killed her, he has no right to be at said funeral," Alex shook her head.<p>

"We have to question Sedona and Gordon separately," Bobby agreed.

By three PM, the Raiders were back at One PP, this time with the family lawyer and an ADA observing. They had decided to flip interviews, Bobby would interview Sedona, and Alex would have a run at Gordon Raider.

The couple was placed in separate interrogation rooms, and their lawyer accompanied Mr Raider.

Sedona declined counsel, even after Bobby mirandized her.

"I think you have a lot of nerve dragging us here the day of our daughter's wake," she was indignant.

"Mrs Raider, we are trying to solve her murder," Bobby's expression was earnest. "I'm sorry about the timing. Losing your daughter, a potential hurricane...and your own health issues."  
>She was startled, "How-how did you know about that?"<p>

"I know what it's like to have someone you love so sick. My mom...died of cancer four years ago. The treatment that might have helped her...was beyond my reach. I'd have done anything to help her," he said quietly.

"I have a lot of faith that the Lord will provide a solution," she said serenely.

"Your daughter went to your father to ask for his help," he said gently.

"No, you must be mistaken," she shook her head.

"Mr Epstein has admitted to meeting her Sunday night. He declined to give her the money, because..." he broke off, unsure whether to continue.

"He gave up every claim to me because he had someone else," she said bitterly. "I would rather die than ask him for a cent."

"Mariah...she was a good girl. She wanted you to live, to see Brian grow up. And if begging your deadbeat father for money would make that happen, she was willing to do it," he explained.

Alex was much more confrontational with Gordon Raider. After advising him of his rights, she slapped the printout proving his theft, fraud from Epstein's brokerage account.

His lawyer took the file, perused it, "I thought we were here to talk about his daughter's murder."

"We are," Alex laid the bartender's statement next to the printout.

"You can't prove that he was even in New York at the time. He was home with his wife,"

the lawyer shrugged.

"We plan on a lineup within the hour," she replied. "But this might just prove him to be the liar he is," she tapped the disc in her hand. "Video of your client passing through toll booths, along with his easy pass record. What did you do, wait for your family to fall asleep, then hit the road?"  
>Raider blanched, "I didn't...it wasn't supposed to..."<p>

"Quiet, Gordon," his lawyer cautioned.

"Why did you do it?" Alex wondered. "Afraid that she'd spill the source of your little secret money stash?"

He put his head in his hands, "I just wanted to...save my wife. Epstein...I asked him for money when Sedona got sick. We'd used all our savings, and mortgaged the house..insurance wouldn't pay for the treatment, said it was too experimental. He acted like...we were...dirt under his feet. Said he had no inclination to help her, that he had his own family. All that money, and he couldn't spare a nickel. I figured he wouldn't miss the money, especially if he thought_** his family**_ took it," he spat.

"You argued with Mariah the night before she was murdered," Alex said.

"About meeting Curtis," Raider said, his eyes shifting.

"Melisande was pretty sure you meant someone else," she said.

"Melisande...heard?" he put his face in his hands. "I tried to talk Mariah out of meeting Epstein. I was going to tell her...I got the money from...a loan."

"Then why didn't you?" she prodded.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I went to the city...but she...Epstein told her I was a thief, that I had his money."

"Gordon, for the last time," his lawyer warned.

"I don't fucking care. She was screaming at me, saying I was no better than her deadbeat grandfather. How I wouldn't give Curtis a chance, that I held myself up to be this...pillar of the community...when I was just as corrupt as Epstein," his eyes were haunted.

"And?" Alex prompted.

"I was so angry. Here I risked everything to get the money, to save Sedona," he agonized. "My own kid looked at me like I was...scum. I tried to get her to be quiet, to...but she was so angry...The brick was in my hand..and she was lying on the ground." He started to sob.

"You threw her in a dumpster," Alex was accusatory.

"So ashamed," he continued to sob.

There was a tap on the mirror, signaling her next move, "Gordon Raider, you are under arrest for the murder of Mariah Raider, for wire fraud and grand theft." She snapped the cuffs on him.

Before he was led away, he was allowed to see his wife for a moment. Her screams of distress echoed down the hall.

Alex and Bobby worked silently, brushing off their colleagues congratulations at solving this case.

"Whole family blown to shreds," Bobby lamented as they left the office after seven o'clock.

"He wanted to protect his family, and ended up destroying it," Alex agreed.

"I don't know, I think he's a lot more like Sedona's father than he'd like to admit," he sighed, leaning against the back of the elevator. "Secrets and lies, veiled in this veneer of honor."

"So sick of this," she agreed as they got into her car.

"Sick of what?" he was curious.

"Dysfunctional families. A mother manipulating her son to kill. A father abandoning his child, favoring the children of his second marriage. A man who maybe started out doing the right thing, but then torched his family by murdering his own precious child. His wife may die, his grandchild will grow up without a mother. Sick of it all," she rubbed her hands over her face, looking every bit of her age.

Bobby shut the ignition off, and turned to her, "Maybe...you should talk to someone."

"I'm talking to you," she looked at him.

"You know what I mean," he countered. "Look, I'm the first one to admit that therapy...isn't my idea of a good time. But...Gyson...has helped me. Keeping it bottled up...I don't want you to suffer the way I have."

After a long silence, Alex admitted, "It has crossed my mind that I'm not handling this very well. And I saw Olivet years ago."

"I know," he was non committal.

"You didn't care much for her when she was your therapist," she laughed. "Seeing Gyson...I think that would be a little too...incestuous."

"If Olivet helped you, then by all means, make an appointment," he pulled her close.

"Need you," she buried her face in his neck.

"Have you home soon," he reluctantly let her go, and started the Malibu.

"Your place is closer," she rubbed his thigh.

"I was thinking...I would use some of that fancy massage oil on you," he chuckled. "The only oil I have is...olive oil."

"I'd be fine with that," she giggled.

"It's very natural, good for the skin...edible," he grinned.

"Um, like that idea," her hand crept up his thigh.

"Keep your hands to yourself, tonight is all about you," he scolded tenderly.

He spread a soft bath sheet over the bed, as Alex was in the bathroom, washing up and taking care of necessities. The bottle of olive oil was warming in the sink.

Alex came into the bedroom, and began to undress.

"Let me," he requested, putting her hands back down to her sides. The only light was from a single small lamp on the nightstand. He eased each button of her blouse from its buttonhole, his fingertips slowly caressing the skin beneath, then laid the blouse over a chair.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as he rubbed his hands down her shoulders, over her hips, "Bobby," she breathed.

"Shh," he rubbed a finger over her lips, while his other hand unbuttoned her slacks, slid the zipper down. He helped her step out of them, them motioned her to sit on the edge of the bed. He slipped her socks off, taking the time to massage her feet.

"Ohhh," she moaned softly.

He moved his hands to her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside. "Lie down on your belly," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. Once she was settled, he eased her panties off. He undressed down to his briefs, then got the warmed bottle of oil.

"Ready?' he breathed.

Her voice was muffled by the pillow, "Making me crazy."

"This is about _**relaxation**_," he reminded her. "Like the first massage you ever gave me, remember?"

"We weren't naked, and that was before we were fucking each other's brains out," she snarked.

He laughed, "I love it when you talk dirty."

"Bobby!" she tried to turn onto her back, but his hand held her in place.

"Lie still and enjoy this," Bobby chuckled.

"'Kay," she acquiesced.

He massaged the warm oil into her shoulders, kneading the tension away. His fingers lightly squeezed the tendons of her neck, working the knots there, and stroked her scalp. He worked the muscles of her back, taking time to loosen up each one.

In spite of herself, Alex felt her body drifting from the tautness of desire to nearly complete lassitude.

Bobby could feel the grip of stress leave her as he rubbed her butt and thighs. He was having a hard time focusing his actions as he watched the play of light on her body, the slick feel of her skin. He sighed and continued to massage her lower legs, her feet.

Alex's breathing had evened out, and he was pretty sure she was asleep. Reluctantly he got off the bed, and replaced the bottle of oil on the dresser.

"Hey, you didn't do my front," she said sleepily, rolling over.

"I-uh-thought...you were asleep,"he stammered.

"Almost," she purred, teasingly running her hand between her breasts. "You, on the other hand, look like you could use a little relief."

He picked up the bottle of oil, "Not about me tonight."

"Could be if you wanted," she teased.

"I'm fine, really," he smiled.

"Pants on fire," she chuckled, reaching out to stroke him.

Bobby gently placed her hands at her sides, and resumed tending to his partner. Shoulders to toes, he kneaded and rubbed, soothed and plied, talking quietly to her, doing to his best to ignore the pleasure response of his own body.

Alex was floating, barely conscious, so deeply content.

He lifted her enough to remove the towel, and tuck her under the covers. Bobby cuddled her close, trying to settle his racing heart.

"Bobby,"she murmured, her hand inside his briefs. "'s okay."

"Sleep," he tried to suppress a groan.

"I will," she yawned. "Do what you need," her eyes drifted closed.

He looked into her sleeping face and rose over her, parting her relaxed thighs, slipping inside easily. It was a warm, liquid comfort, an undemanding, fast release. He fell asleep, snug within her.

Sunlight made her scowl, as well as the weight of Bobby's body on hers. She still felt utterly limp from his ministrations, worked better than any sleeping pill she'd ever taken.

Probably had overslept, no time for a run. The thought didn't even particularly bother her, but her full bladder did. She pushed at his shoulder, "Baby, let me up."

"Uh," he grunted and moved off her, but didn't wake.

She took care of her biological needs, then climbed into the shower. Knew she should wake Bobby, but didn't have the heart.

Alex dressed in sweats, picked up her cell, and called the captain, "Look, I hate to call in late, but yesterday...was a little too much."

Joe had picked up on the second ring, "Detective, there is still cleanup to do on this case. Plus we have public safety issues with the hurricane."

"I know," Alex felt her heart sink, tried to keep her voice steady. "Bobby and I...need a personal day."

"Look, you've gotten the crap kicked out of you this past couple months. The thing is, I can't...show favoritism," his tone was regretful.

She looked at the clock, "Be in as soon as we can." Alex hung up and dialed Olivet's office, making an appointment for later next week. She heard the shower going, went to make coffee.

Bobby shrugged into his jacket, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you needed the sleep," she shot back. "So did I."

"Better call in," he reached for his phone.

"I already did. Drink your coffee and eat some breakfast," she insisted, thrusting a full mug at him.

"It's still a work day," he said, irritated.

"Running a damn press gauntlet, and doing paperwork on another loser case. People going nuts about a hurricane," she snarked, eating a spoonful of yogurt.

He threw a couple frozen waffles in the toaster, and took a gulp of coffee, "It's what we do."

"Not who we are," she snapped. "Look, we need more of last night and less of this..." she gestured towards their guns and badges on the counter.

"When...when we came back to Major Case, you knew what we were getting into," he said. "I am trying really hard to strike a balance, but there are times...not going to happen." He smeared peanut butter on the waffles and slapped them together.

Alex tossed her empty yogurt cup into the recycler, "I know. I-uh-scheduled a session with Olivet next week."

"Good," Bobby nodded, stuffing the last of his waffle sandwich in his mouth.

She changed from sweats to work day clothes, and swiped some makeup on.

The friction between them eased as she slid behind the wheel. Once in the office, they dug into paperwork and fielded phone calls. The television in the captain's office was tuned to the news channel. Hurricane Irene pushed the Raider/Epstein case off the radar, so to speak.

Alex got a text from Liz about four o'clock, "Hurricane party in Rockaway tonight, to be followed by hangover cure breakfast tomorrow. RSVP, bring your fave beverage."

She showed the message to Bobby, "What do you think?"

"Let's do it," he said. "Joe let us off the call hook until Sunday."

She picked up her phone and said, "Hey, Liz? We're in. Uh huh. No, we probably won't stay over."

"The guest room is all yours, private bath, lock on the door and all," Liz teased.

"Where will the rest of the family sleep?" Alex wondered.

"Dad will sleep in Nate's room, Matt and Darla can pull out the couch in the family room, the kids are bringing their sleeping bags. Ashley and Ryan said they'd flop anywhere they can find a spot. The neighbors can crash at their own houses. Everyone else is either driving back home tonight, too chicken or working," her sister said.

"Let's take your car," Alex said as they left his apartment. They planned a stop in Forest Hills for her to pick up a change of clothes before heading to Rockaway.

"What if it storms?" Bobby objected.

"Eric will let you park your baby in the garage, I'm sure," she grinned. "We're going to be back home before then anyway."

"Fine," he huffed.

The house and yard rocked with laughter and music, Mardi Gras beads and little fake palm trees adorned the tables. The party was fueled by barbecued ribs, salads, veggies, fruit, chips, ice cream and homemade pies. And lots of beer, wine, and sodas. The crowd swelled to about forty people by eight o'clock. The weather channel played on the big screen in the family room.

Alex and Bobby stumbled into the dark guest room after two AM, feeling not much pain after partaking liberally in the adult beverage selection. The house was quiet, save for the rising wind outside. Everyone had retired to their respective accommodations.

She clicked the lock, and regarded her partner, who was sprawled on the bed, still fully dressed.

"Gonna your sleep in your clothes, baby?" she slurred her words a bit.

"Uh huh," he groaned.

"Not me," she began a slow striptease.

"We're in your sister's house," he said hoarsely."Your dad is right down the hall."

"Passed out, no doubt," she said in a stage whisper. T shirt off, she was now shimmying out of her shorts. "Ouch," she banged her knee on the nightstand.

"Be _**quiet**_," he sat up in bed, his voice a furious whisper.

"Make me," she giggled, crawling on top of him, kissing and sucking at his neck, making lewd suggestions in his ear.

"Alex, should stop that," Bobby sighed.

"I thought you liked it when I talk dirty," she was fumbling with the zipper on his jeans.

"I do," he groaned as she succeeded in opening his fly, her hands inside. "Please, baby."

"Please what? Please you? I'm doing the best I can," she replaced her hands with her mouth.

Bobby arched up, focused on her drunken ministrations, "Fine, if that's what you want."

"Oh, I want," she breathed, taking off her panties and bra. "And you want, too."

He shoved his jeans and briefs over his hips, and rolled her onto her back.

Muffled moans, shifting bodies...and so another weekend began.

"Ow," Alex was having difficulty opening her eyes.

"Serves you right," Bobby was fresh from his shower.

"I hate you," she moaned, putting the pillow over her head.

"Seemed to like me well enough earlier this morning," he smirked.

"That was a...lapse in judgment," she muttered.

He pulled the covers off her, and lifted her up, "You'll feel much better after a shower and some breakfast."

There was a knock on the door, "Aunt Alex? Bobby? Are you still sleeping?" Nate wondered.

"No, buddy, she's in the shower," Bobby called out, setting Alex down and giving her butt a light pat. "See you downstairs," he whispered in her ear.

She slammed the bathroom door, "Good morning to you, too." he added, going to join the rest of the family for breakfast.

"You look like hell," her youngest brother Matt blurted when Alex put in an appearance a half hour later. She was clad in a sleeveless white eyelet blouse, and a loose coral cotton skirt with flip flops.

"Gee, thanks," Alex poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped liberal amounts of sugar and creamer in.

"Want an omelet? They're really good," Bobby's eyes twinkled, digging into his breakfast with gusto.

"This will suit me fine," she swallowed a few ibuprofen.

"You need to rehydrate, so have some juice," Liz shoved a glass towards her. "And the cinnamon roll might settle you."

"You shouldn't drink so much, Lex" her dad scolded.

"Look who's talking," Alex muttered under her breath, taking a bite of the pastry.  
>Two cups of coffee, juice and water, with the sugar from the cinnamon roll, Alex was feeling nearly human. She even managed to share some of Nate's omelet.<p>

Bobby backed the Shelby from the garage, as Alex said good bye to her family, "Great party, guys," she hugged her sister and brother in law.

Nate was in the passenger seat, checking out the car, "So, do you ever put the top down?"

"I do, when the weather's nice," Bobby answered, getting out and tossing Alex's bag in the trunk.

"Show him how you do it," Alex urged.

"Now?" he was surprised.

"Let the wind blow through our hair on the way back," she smirked.

"Bossy, isn't she?" Johnny was getting ready to leave with Matt and his family. "Just like her mother, God rest her soul."

They hit the road, the rain holding off for the moment. "You're in a strange mood," Bobby observed.

"Strange how?" she smiled.

"Getting drunk, insisting we drive with the top down on a stormy day..." he explained.

"Not every day we have a horror-cane in New York," she grinned.

"A new experience kind of thing," he chuckled. "Or...pants on fire?"

"You could say that," her eyes twinkled. "Speaking of new experiences, maybe you could turn off there," she indicated an exit with beach access.

He looked askance at her, "Um, the storm is going to be here soon."

She looked up at the sky, "Looks like it'll hold off for a little while. C'mon, trust me?"

The car edged towards the beach turnoff, "I do trust you, but we should stop and put the top up."

"We will after we're done," she pressed a hand into his groin.

"Done doing what?" he had a nagging suspicion. "Having a party on the dunes?"  
>"Um, just contributing to your fantasy list...and mine," she reached for the snap on his jeans.<p>

He put his hand over hers, "Going to love explaining this if we get pulled over."

"We'll badge them, tell 'em we're out helping with evacuations," she squeezed. "And besides, you told me that you wanted to make out in the backseat during a concert."

"With a hurricane on it's way? That must be your fantasy," he chuckled.

"Um, sex on the beach, without lying in the itchy sand," she ran the tip of her tongue in his ear.

Bobby groaned, "Killing me."

"Hmm, you look pretty healthy," she laughed softly, turning the satellite radio to the love songs station.

Bobby found a relatively isolated spot, a deserted parking lot hard by the sea. The sky was leaden, with the wind whipping up and the sound of the surf close by. People seemingly were heeding the warnings to leave the beaches, as they appeared to be the only ones around. He shut the engine off, leaving the radio playing on low, "Probably would be more comfortable in the back seat," he conceded.

"Um hmm," she rather gracelessly crawled over the seat, while he got out and slid the seat forward.

The light was rapidly fading, and the wind picked up, the salt air strong. They sat side by side, Alex working the zipper, and opening his fly.

Bobby was popping the buttons open on her white eyelet blouse, delighted to find she had a front hook bra on. He deftly unfastened it, and whipped it to the side, palming and plucking at her nipples. He felt her reach inside his briefs, and stroke him from top to bottom, "God, Alex...keep going."'

Alex moaned as he tipped his head down to capture a nipple in his teeth and flick it with his tongue, "Makes me...wet."

"Really?" he moved his hand up her loose skirt, moving to the juncture of her thighs. First he scowled, then laughed, "Where...where are your panties?"he stroked her intimately.

She caught his mouth in a searing kiss, "At home in the underwear drawer."

"Commando? I love it!" he gasped as her fingers nimbly squeezed his erection.

"Thought you might like...the path to least resistance," she sighed, as his fingers slipped inside her, while his thumb worried the little pearl. Pleasure rushed through her body, making her thoughts scatter.

"Come sit on my lap," he picked up her quivering body, letting her guide him inside her.

Her eyes fluttered closed as they moved together, a second climax flying through her before she could catch her breath from her first. She clawed his t shirt up, letting her bare breasts rub against his chest while he held a firm grip on her hips, their mouths and tongues moving in the same frenetic rhythm.

The sound of the wind and surf, coupled with the danger of public sex, ratcheted their release.

The syrupy strains of Johnny Rivers' "Slow Dancing" emanated from the radio.

"Love this song," she murmured into his neck.

"Me, too," He let out a wheezy chuckle, kissing her ear."These fantasies are going to be the death of me, but what a way to go,"

"You're telling me," she sighed. "_**Three**_ times?"

"So you're satisfied?" he was playing with her hair.

"Half dead satisfied," she giggled.

"Me, too," he sighed. "Who's going to drive home?"

"Maybe we can just stay here," she said drowsily.

"Might drown," he considered.

A few fat raindrops hit their faces, bringing them back to their senses. They hastily rearranged their clothes, got the convertible top back in place and headed to Brooklyn. By the time they parked the car and ran for cover, the rain was coming down in sheets. Rain, wind, power failures, floods...but inside the apartment, it was peaceful, serene.

_**Wow. Now that we've dispensed with the Epstein/Raider case, let's have a little fun. Or let Bobby and Alex have some fun. Oh, that's right, they **_**did ****_have a little fun. Or a lot. Depends on your perspective. Next chapter will have a little broader focus-the month of September. It has been suggested that the little secret of their affair was outed at Bobby's birthday party. Really, the only brass present was Captain Hannah, and I think he is firmly in the "don't ask, don't tell" mode. The bond between Bobby and Alex was obvious long before season ten. From Deakins to Nicole to Declan Gage, they knew. Even poor departed Danny Ross surely got it. But what happens when the brass finds out? These and other questions will be addressed as the story moves along. Any ideas, suggestions, and cookies are welcome._**


	11. Chapter 11

_**September. Alex jumps on the therapy bus, and faces some painful memories. A holiday weekend replete with smut. The dynamic duo catch a puzzling new case, one that will dredge up issues for both. A solemn anniversary is marked. And we have chapter 11. Sorry for the long delay...busy, busy life. I don't own them. Sigh.**_

Alex shifted nervously in her seat. Why the hell did she think that therapy was a good idea? And she was missing lunch to boot.

"Alex?" Dr Olivet's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Yeah," she got up and followed the doctor into her office.

"Been a long time," she said by way of opening.

"Yes, it has," Alex took a deep breath.

"What brings you in today?" the therapist inquired.

"Uh-lots of little things, I guess," she began. "Work, mostly. We've had some really dark, miserable cases...a family murdered, little kids...family secrets and drama."

"You said 'we.'" Dr Olivet observed.

"Bobby and I," Alex paused.

"You're back with your partner," Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes, after a break," she agreed.

"How is that going?" she asked.

Alex smiled, "Very well. In a lot of ways, it's like we've never been apart."

Dr Olivet observed, "Your whole demeanor changes when you talk about him."  
>"We've been together a long time. You know that. And he was one of your patients at one time," she said.<p>

"Former patient," she acknowledged. "Employer mandated after he was at Tates."

"Um-hmm," Alex said. "He's...much better now."

"I'm glad," the doctor said sincerely. "He needed...help I couldn't provide."

"Anger management, his dysfunctional family, authority issues," Alex ticked them off on her fingers. "While my issues are PTSD, postpartum depression, and repressed anger. We make the perfect dysfunctional partnership."

"Interesting observation," Dr Olivet commented. "Care to elaborate?"

Alex propped her elbows on her knees, "Isn't it obvious? Between the two of us, we make one sane person."

"Still have the sarcasm as your defense mechanism," the therapist observed.

"Bobby calls it my snark," She grinned.

"If this is going to work, you need to check that at the door," Olivet warned.

"I'll do my best," Alex sobered.

"Good," Olivet nodded. "Some general questions, how is your relationship with your family, specifically your sister and nephew?"

"It's good, Nate is almost eight, in second grade. Liz and I...we're very open about discussing feelings, jealousies."

"Tell me about that," Olivet said.

"One of our nieces is pregnant, soon to be married," Alex commented. "We were at a family dinner a while back, and Liz got upset when Ashley and I compared notes about being pregnant."

"Had to bring up some feelings for you, too," the therapist prompted.

"It did," Alex bit her lip, fidgeted. "My nephew asked how it felt when he was in my belly."

"That made your sister upset," Olivet said.

"She never was pregnant long enough to feel kicks, and it...hurt her," the words were hard to say.

"Yet once he was born, she was his mother," the therapist observed.

"That's what I told her," Alex's tone was bitter.

"When you came in, you spoke about the work getting to you," Olivet said.

"I guess," she stared out the window. "The kids who didn't get to grow up. The parents who raised a murderer. A father who killed his own precious daughter, leaving her son without a mother."

"Lot of stress, even without the personal issues," the doctor acknowledged.

"Or maybe it's regret. Not for being a surrogate, but that I have no child of my own." Alex got up to pace the room.

"Those feelings are normal for a woman of your age," Olivet countered.

"I'm fine with not being a mother, really," Alex sighed.

"So you've always said. But ...you seem ambivalent, and I don't think it's just about what's going on at work," the doctor pondered.

"Oh, it has a lot to do with the work," she said dryly. "These...people, the perps...they were blessed with children, and yet...they didn't appreciate what they had. They either killed their kids or warped them into these...sociopaths."

"Galls you, does it?" Olivet commented.

"Makes me wonder sometimes...how life works. Why them?" Alex sighed. "God, I listen to myself and I sound like those weepy, weak...idiots on talk shows. "

"So, is this twenty questions? Do you want me to guess?" Elizabeth was exasperated.

"I'm in a relationship, with someone...I work with," Alex said cautiously.

"Does he have children?" the therapist asked.

"No, he's never been married," Alex replied. "But he's wonderful with children and he'd be a great father."

"Older than you?" Olivet probed.

"He's fifty," she said, picking at a cuticle. "And he says it doesn't matter to him either way."

"You believe him?" Olivet prompted.

"Yeah," Alex sighed. "But he...his immediate family is gone. And I...what if I'm not enough family for him?"

"How long have you known him?" the doctor inquired.

"Long time," she acknowledged.

Dr Olivet leaned forward in her chair, "So if he tells you he doesn't care about the issue of children, can you take that at face value?"

"Yes," Alex agreed.

"Back to the stress you've been feeling, how are you sleeping?" she asked.

"Most nights, fine," she answered. "Working like crazy and having regular sex helps a lot."

"Guess that answers my next question," Elizabeth chuckled. "You mentioned your PTSD earlier. Sometimes an intimate relationship...even a healthy one, brings up...issues."

"None so far," Alex said quietly.

She left Olivet's office with a lot to think about.

Bobby glanced up as she took a seat at her desk, "Well?"

"Well, what?" she countered.

"How did it go?" he was a little anxious.

Alex bit back a snarky remark, "It was...okay. I'm, uh, going back next week."

"Good," he nodded. "In the meantime, I have a little surprise for you." He indicated a photo on her blotter.

She picked up the photo, regarded it curiously. It was a cottage, painted a cheerful yellow with bright blue shutters. Geraniums bloomed in the window boxes, and there was a pair of bikes propped next to the front door. "What's this, our latest crime scene?"

"Uh, no, it's ours for the holiday weekend, if-if we want it," he said quietly.

"Want it? Of course I do," she grinned. "But how did you find something like this at this late date?"

"You remember Lewis' brother Tom? Well, he and his girlfriend just broke up and he said he'd rather put time in at the shop than be in Montauk by himself." he explained quietly, casting a furtive glance.

She came around the desk, pretending to read a file over his shoulder, "I could just kiss you," she whispered in his ear.

Bobby tilted his head slightly, "Just a kiss? I was expecting a little more than that," he muttered under his breath.  
>"Don't worry, I'll kiss whatever you want tonight," she went back to her seat, enjoying the look on his face.<p>

It was one of "those" nights, as Alex liked to call them. Where they went directly to the bedroom, do not pass go, do not eat dinner before sexually sating each other.

"You said you would kiss whatever I wanted," Bobby laughed, as he efficiently undressed his partner.

"I kind of expected you'd feed me first," she joked, tossing his shirt onto the floor and unzipping his pants.

"Sorry, are you hungry?" he paused in his task of divesting her of her panties.

"Spent my lunch hour in the shrink's office," she shoved his pants off.

"Oh, right. Um, I think there's some leftover pizza in the fridge," he said distractedly.

She laughed outright, "I can wait a little," she stroked the bulge in his shorts.

"Trying to be a gentleman here," he groaned.

"Uh huh," Alex grinned, yanking his briefs off. "So what do you want me to kiss first?"

"Take your pick," he lay back on the bed.

"Chinese," she climbed on top of him.

"I didn't realize that was a body part," he chuckled.

"Takeout Chinese is what I want when we get this kissing thing out of the way," Alex teased his mouth open with her tongue, chewed on his lower lip a bit.

"Never could understand how a woman's mind works," he ran his hands over her bare butt.

"We multitask, hardwired for it," she slid down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. "Guys...not so much."

"Oh, kissing right there...love that," Bobby arched up into her hands.

"Since you have a preference..." her mouth closed around him, taking her time to pleasure him.

Bobby felt the haze of desire spreading, "Fuck, Alex!"

"Thought this was about the kissing," she stopped for a moment, keeping him clutched in one hand, while the other stroked his belly.

Before she could take another breath, he had her on her back across the bed, one hand holding her hands above her head, his tongue thrusting forcefully into her mouth, while the other parted her thighs.

Alex felt a tingle of fear, a throwback to her kidnapping years ago. She hated having her arms restrained in any fashion. She bucked her hips against him, trying to focus on the pleasure. You're safe, he won't hurt you, she assured herself silently.

Bobby took her movements as ascent towards a quick release, and plunged into her.

She moaned as he made contact with just the right spot and felt herself propelled at breakneck speed to orgasm, "Almost there," she panted, letting herself go.

"Aw, Christ, yeah!" he collapsed on top of her, finally releasing her arms.

She let them drop limply to her sides, unable to even move her extremities enough to embrace him as she usually did.

Again, Bobby took her lassitude as exhaustion. He kissed her tenderly, surprised to taste tears on her cheeks, "Alex, baby, are you all right?"

"I-I am," she wept.

"You're not," he sat up and pulled her into his lap. "Talk to me."

"It-it was so fast...overwhelmed..." she tried to steady her voice, managing a rueful laugh, "Took my breath away more than usual, Goren."

"I get...impatient sometimes," he said ruefully. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Alex felt guilty, keeping the whole truth from him, "It's just me...you know how I am when I don't get a carb fix," she stroked his cheek, kissed him tenderly.

"Well, let's just take care of that right now," he got up to find the phone and order their dinner.

Alex took the opportunity to shower and throw on sweat pants, t shirt and a sweatshirt, hoping the hot water and fleece would chase the chill that shook her.

He looked up as she came into the kitchen, "Geez, are you sick?" He laid a hand on her forehead.

She narrowed her eyes then smirked, "My core temperature drops right along with my blood sugar."

Bobby heaved an exaggerated sigh, "The food will be here in about fifteen minutes." He opened the cupboard and found a bag of Skittles. "In the meantime, eat," he tore open the bag and put a handful in her mouth.

"You are too good to me," she said with her mouth full.

"Uh huh," he kissed the top of her head, and threw some bills on the table. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

Alex paid the delivery boy, and put their dinner on the table. She poured water for both of them, resisting the urge to use alcohol.

Bobby emerged from the bathroom, his hair damply mussed, clad in a t shirt and sweatpants, "Food, great!"

They dug in, eating ravenously.

"If we get out of work at a reasonable time tomorrow, let's go to the farmer's market on the way," she proposed.

"Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend? You know how mobbed that will be!" he objected mildly.

"Oh, come on, we have to stop for groceries anyway, let's get some local food," she said.

"You are bound and determined to keep me healthy," he sighed.

"Because I want you to live a long, long time," she grinned, putting the empty containers in the trash.

"And?" he queried.

"And you'll need healthy food to keep up your, um, stamina, this weekend," she patted his butt as she went past him to flop on the couch.

He lounged beside her, dragging her legs across his lap, "Do tell."

"Um, three days at a beach cottage, no call, just the sound of surf, the salt breeze, no family...cell phones off, do I have to draw you a picture?" she countered.

"And a nice king sized bed, I think," he massaged her bare feet.

"Bed? Oh, no, I was talking about riding those bikes, running on the beach, shopping..." she deadpanned, then giggled at his crestfallen expression.

"Evil woman," he pinched her ankle lightly.

"This is a surprise?" she grinned.

They passed the evening on the couch, channel surfing and talking about the coming weekend. Alex fell asleep in Bobby's arms, and barely felt him lift and carry her to bed.

The fear from earlier revisited her in her dreams.

_She was back in that horrid basement, the screams from the girl in the next room echoing in her ears. Her arm muscles burned from being hung on the hook. Her blindfold slipped, and there was Jo Gage, running scissors across her face. Alex felt the cold sharpness of the blades, could see blood dripping. _

_Jo's voice was mocking, "You'll never see Bobby again, Alex. He took my daddy away from me, so I'm taking you away from him. It'll destroy him, and then I'll have my daddy all to myself. Alex could see Jo raise the sharpened blades, helpless to stop her own murder. A strangled scream tore from her throat._

"Alex, Alex, are you okay?" Bobby was saying her name over and over, his hands stroking her face.

She stared wildly around the room, trying to get her bearings. Thin gray predawn light washed the furniture of Bobby's bedroom. Her body slicked with cold sweat and her heart was pounding so loudly, she could scarcely hear his voice.

"It's okay, you had a bad dream," he said softly, brushing her damp hair off her face.

She sobbed inconsolably, unable to put her terror into words.

Bobby's heart ached, remembering those terrible nights after her kidnapping, when she would wake like this. He'd be asleep on her couch, and hear her scream. Other times, she'd show up on his doorstep at three in the morning, face ashen, eyes bloodshot. They'd sit at the table, drinking endless cups of coffee, sometimes talking, sometimes just taking comfort in each other's presence. He thought she was years beyond that fear, but then... "Was it the same dream?" he whispered.

She nodded yes, then shook her head, burying her head into his chest, ."Th-this time, I could see that it was Jo. She-she was telling me I was going to d-die...and she raised the scissors...oh, God..." her voice trailed off and her body shivered.

"I'm sorry, baby, so sorry," he crooned, snuggling her close. They fell back into a fitful sleep, Bobby sitting with his back against the headboard, Alex draped across his lap.

They woke with stiff necks and cramped limbs, "Great start to our weekend, damn nightmare," she grumbled, stretching.

"You're sure you're okay?" he was anxious as they dressed.

"I'm fine," she sighed. "I've got my own knight in shining armor, and once you get some coffee and sugar in me..."

He handed her a steaming travel mug, "You'll be your normal sweet self?"

"Something like that," she took a huge gulp, closing her eyes in bliss. "God, I love you."

"You say the same thing to the guy at Starbucks," he laughed, shrugging into his jacket.

He tossed clothes haphazardly into a duffel bag, and snatched up his binder.

"I've got your coffee," she expertly balanced her purse, work tote, the coffees and her keys.

"Miss multitask herself," he teased, taking the keys from her hand. "I'm driving."

"What?" she was annoyed.

"Hey, it would look a little suspicious for you to be driving my car into the One PP garage," he commented.

"But less so if I'm your passenger," she snarked as he swung into traffic.

"You can lie down in the back seat," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, "Such wit this morning."

Bobby let her out near the MTA closest to work, and she walked leisurely the rest of the way. They'd worked out a system to lower their risk of getting caught.

As Fridays went, the day was pretty routine. Bobby and Alex spent the day catching up on paperwork, and following leads on open cases. They were enough ahead that they ambled out of the bullpen by three o'clock. After a stop in Forest Hills to gather Alex's clothes, they stopped at a farmers market to stock up on fresh fruits and vegetables, bread, pasta, pastries, wine, even locally processed meat and marinara. Bobby and Alex munched on still-warm kettle corn as they inched along towards Montauk.

It was full dark by the time he parked in front of the cottage. He took out the key that Tom had provided, and turned it in the lock.

"This is great," Alex enthused, switching on lights as she moved through the little home. Besides the cozy living room, there was an eat in kitchen, with cheerful red-checked curtains adorning the windows. Bobby turned left off the living room, to look at the bathroom and single bedroom. The bath had an old claw-foot tub, with a shower ring. The antique ivory iron bed was covered with a bright patchwork quilt.

Together, they worked at unloading the car. Bobby set water boiling for pasta, while Alex tossed a salad. Marinara simmered in another pot, and crusty bread heated in the oven.

They ate ravenously, enjoying the cozy cottage and the intimacy of their first official getaway as a couple.

"I owe Tom big time for this," Bobby chuckled as they cleared the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher.

"He paid for this?" Alex asked.

"His ex-girlfriend did," he admitted sheepishly. "They were out here quite a bit this summer, but when they busted up, he kept the keys to the place. The owner didn't care, the rent was paid for the season."

"So what happened with Tom and this chick?" Alex was curious.

Bobby opened the french doors to a back patio, "Oh, typical rich girl-blue collar guy problems. She's a hotshot lawyer, tried to make him into her image of what a boyfriend should be. Trouble is, Tom likes being a regular guy."

They took seats in red Adirondack chairs, holding hands and sipping wine. "I owe him, too," Alex sighed happily. "We needed this so much."

They woke late the next morning, and ate breakfast in bed. "We are so lazy," Alex commented as she stretched and yawned.

"What holiday weekends are for," he countered, rubbing a hand on her thigh.

"Maybe we can get a little exercise," she rolled over onto her belly.

Bobby's fingers slid higher, "I'm all for that."

She rolled back, dislodging his hand, "I was thinking of riding those bikes."

"Spoilsport," he laughed.

Bobby and Alex spent the rest of the morning biking up the path that ran along the beach. They had lunch in a little cafe, then spent the afternoon poking around the local shops. By the time they got back to the cottage the sun was sliding towards the horizon. Dinner was steaks and vegetables on the grill, with bread and wine. For dessert, there was ice cream with fresh berries.

"Now we need to work off those calories," Bobby groaned in satisfaction.

Alex beckoned him with a saucy sway of her hips, "I have just the thing," she cast a mischievous glance over her shoulder as she walked into the bedroom.

Sunday was your basic smut-fest, as Alex jokingly called it. The iron bed got a workout, and they splashed water out of the big old bathtub. A nap on the couch, then a walk to the lighthouse. After dinner and a racy movie from the DVD collection in the living room, one last round on the living room floor.

"That scene in the movie where...the handcuff scene?" she was lying beneath him.

"Yes, I remember that," he grinned.

"Well, I think it would be fun...but since... the kidnapping...I'm scared... of the restraint thing," her expression was agonized.

"After Tates...I understand," he said hoarsely. "You know I would never willingly do anything to hurt you."

"I know," she remembered how he'd held her hands the other night.

"But?" his eyes were anxious.

"But nothing," she tugged at his shirt, "You're wearing too many clothes."

He took her shirt and shorts off, then laid her back on the carpet, kissing her tenderly, stroking her limbs, arranging pillows off the couch so that she was comfortable.

Bobby ran his hands over her body, his movements achingly slow.

"That...like that," she murmured as he nipped at her breast where the skin met the edge of her lacy bra, undoing the front clasp.

He soothed the bite with the tip of his tongue, while his hand found the edge of her panties. Bobby ran his fingers in the leg opening, grazing the top of her thigh, and sliding inward, touching the delta of curls lightly.

Her hips arched, sweat slicked her skin, and her mouth was dry.

His fingertips slid beneath the bit of satin and lace once more, caressing the soft skin beneath the curls, his touch feather-light. He leaned forward to capture her mouth with his, tangoing their tongues slowly.

He could see her arm muscles tense, and he moved his mouth from her lips, to her throat, and over her collarbones, fingertips soothing the soft skin of her arms, his tongue following the path of his digits.

A moan escaped her lips, focusing on the liquid fire of his caresses. Now his hands were at her breasts, pushing the lacy bra aside so he could get at her nipples, suckling first one then the other, making her arch her back off the floor.

Another few soothing kisses, then he resumed his sensual journey. His fingers were in her panties again, stroking the folds of skin, moving back to the tender skin of her inner thighs, then tracing her hip bones, "Mmmm," he murmured into her navel.

"Goddammit Bobby, stop teasing," she moaned.

"I'm...savoring," his voice was making pleasant vibrations on her skin.

"I'm_** pissed**_!"she rasped.

"That's my girl," he laughed, He massaged her calves lightly, and her feet..his tongue working little circles on the arch, knowing she was ticklish there.

She started to laugh, "Tickles. Baby, come _**on**_!"

"Prolonging the joy," he grinned, moving back up to hook a finger in her panties, sliding them off at a rate of a centimeter a second.

"You are so fucking mean," she choked, again arching her hips.

"Really, the language shocks me, Eames," Bobby blew on the soft dark curls. "I thought going slow would be...fun."

"If I ever get cuffs on you, I'm going to torture you, going to get you so hard that you can't stand it anymore, then I'm going to go sleep on the couch," she threatened.

"Leave me with blue balls?" he was amused, his fingers teasing, bringing her to the brink, then backing off.

"No more than you deserve," she wailed.

"Nice talk," he chuckled.

She was just dying for release, "I'm going to kill you," she moaned.

"Hmm, maybe I'd better hurry things along," he replaced his fingers with his tongue.

"Bobby, oh, fuck, yeah! Baby...feels so..." words dissolved into breathless sobs.

Her arms clutched at his neck, her body shaking.

He lifted her hips and buried himself inside her.

Alex felt her heart pounding crazily in her ears, as they came down from their climaxes.

Bobby rolled to his side, spooning her firmly against him, "Still going to kill me?"

"Nope," she chuckled."This has been the best weekend, sweetheart," she murmured into his chest.

Bobby kissed her forehead, "It really has." he paused a moment.

Alex picked up on his mood shift, "What?"

"I was wondering...does this remind you too much...of when you were married to Joe?"

"Where did that come from?" she brought her head up sharply.

"Well, I know you had a beach place when you were married..." he trailed off.

"We did," she pressed her forehead to his. "And it was nice, a happy memory. But it's just that...a memory. I'm more into the here and now. And now is very..." she kissed his chin, "very," then his nose, "sweet." she finished at his mouth.

Bobby woke to an empty bed. He found Alex at the kitchen table, fully dressed, sipping coffee and reading the Times.

"Good morning, honey," he kissed her lightly.

She scowled, "Morning."

"Something wrong?" he poured a cup for himself.

"Nothing that a fistful of Midol and a heating pad won't fix," she sighed.

"Aw, too bad," he ruffled her hair. "Anything I can do for you?"

"No, just the usual monthly woman thing," Alex grinned sarcastically.

It was late afternoon before they packed the car and carefully locked up the cottage.

"Promise me we'll do this again," Alex requested as they drove west.

"As often as we can," he agreed, lifting her hand to his lips.

Work was literally crazy on Tuesday, as their week began with a call out before seven-thirty. Since they had spent the night in their respective apartments, there was a little delay. Bobby met Alex at the MTA in a departmental SUV.

She slid behind the wheel giving him a quick kiss, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Bloated, crampy, and bitchy," she snarked.

"Is that a warning?" he teased.

"For you and everyone else the next few days," she grinned over at him.

"Got it," he chuckled.

"So what's the story?" she reverted to work mode.

"Uh, DOA at a hospital," he consulted his scrawled notes.

Alex maneuvered the SUV through traffic, "And this is a major case because?"

"Head nurse on a locked down unit, prison ward," he replied.

"So administration wants to cover their asses. Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked tentatively.

He gave her a puzzled look, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Um, your mother, your experience at Tate's?" she countered.

"This is a murder investigation. Period. Nothing more, nothing less," he was annoyed.

"Fine," she huffed.

"Fine," he echoed.

The partners were quiet the rest of the drive. They badged the uniform at the door of the unit and they were waved in.

The nurse's small office was splattered with blood, and the body remained sprawled in the doorway. The hallway was roped off with crime scene tape, and sobbing staff members were gathered in a nearby nurses station.

"Give us the overview," Alex requested.

The first officer on scene consulted his notes, "Uh, deceased is Jean Dalton, RN, age 49. She's the nurse manager. Day shift charge nurse found her about seven o five when she failed to show for inter-shift report."

"Any wits?" Bobby knelt, and did a cursory once over. "Lots of anger, stabbed with a sharp object." He pointed to a scalpel, lying a pool of congealed blood.

"Just the nurses who found her," Officer Ramirez pointed down the hall.

"She's wearing scrubs, no obvious sign of sexual assault," Alex knelt as well. "No jewelry," she lifted one bloody hand. The nails were broken and bloody, there were cuts and scratches, obviously defensive injuries.

"She fought hard," Bobby agreed. "All the patients accounted for?"

Ramirez nodded, "Yeah. They do rounding every thirty minutes, and they're noted on the clipboard. Patients are women, most are not ambulatory, it's a medical unit, what they call a step-down? They are recovering from surgeries or serious illness. Rooms are locked."

"Let's go talk to the staff," Bobby rose and waved a hand down the hall.

"She was great, never a problem with patients or staff," Leah Mason, assistant nurse manager said, wiping tears from her eyes. She had been the one to find the victim.

"This is a tough place to work," Bobby commented.

"It is, but we don't look on these people for what they did, we're here to take care of them," Leah's eyes flashed.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Was it her habit to be at work this early?"

"Early? No, she was at the end of her shift, she worked 19-07 so I could go to a family reunion this weekend. Jean is good like that," her voice broke. "_**Was**_ good...even when she...life wasn't always good to her."

"What do you mean?" Alex prompted, handing the woman a tissue.

"Jean's first husband was abusive, and her family...disowned her when she left him. She raised three kids while working two jobs and going to school nights to get her nursing degree. And yet, she never let it get her down. Kept her sense of humor, of decency," Leah took a shuddering breath. "She's the strongest person I know."

"How did you come to find her?" Alex queried.

"She didn't come to report, and that wasn't like her. Jean...she's the first in the conference room at about quarter to, with the coffee on and joke of the day on the whiteboard. I was running a couple minutes behind, because I stopped for donuts..." she bit her lip. "When she wasn't there, the staff split up and went looking. On the off chance maybe she'd ran to her office for something," she closed her eyes and shook her head, "I never thought for a second..."

"You found her where she was?" Bobby asked.

The nurse nodded, "I screamed for help and checked a pulse...nothin'."

"And you didn't move the body?" Alex wondered.

"I picked up her arm to check a radial pulse, put it back after I felt her carotid. My dad was on the job for thirty years, know how not to screw up a crime scene," Leah explained.  
>They spent the rest of the morning interviewing staff, checking on the ex husband's alibi, and getting into a pissing match with administration over patient privacy.<p>

The hospital's primary lawyer cited federal privacy laws, while the detectives and the ADA Casey Novak argued that the patients were guests of the state of New York, so privilege didn't apply.

While they were using a conference room just off the locked unit for a makeshift office, they pored over what they _**did**_ have-witness statements and the rounding worksheets used the previous twenty four hours. There were no patient names, just room numbers, the patient initials, time/date columns and the initials of the staff doing the rounding.

"Look at this, the last round was at 0600. If they're rounded on every thirty, there's a big gap," Bobby noted.

"Unless Jean was doing the rounds the last hour. Say she was doing the 0630 rounds and got interrupted. The murder had to have happened about that time, because there was no indication she ever made it to the conference room at 0645," Alex pondered.

"But then this clipboard wouldn't have been in the nurses station, it would have been with Jean, and it wasn't."

Alex bit her lip, considering, "My sister in law, Darla, is a nurse. Even though the shift changes at seven, they do a lot of end of shift stuff at 6 AM, that way the outgoing shift catches up their charting and get to report at straight up 7. It could be that they started the rounding sheet for the day shift at 0630. If that was the case, we need to ask and see if that sheet is somewhere in her office, or disposed of.

"Because if we knew where she was in her rounds, we could better track her movements," he finished her thought.

"We need the goddamned security video, too," Alex added.

"I know," Bobby scrubbed his hand over his face. "And we need to interview her family."

"Get the background on all the staff, verify COD, see if any of the patients had a grudge, or even the ability to be the doer," Alex added.

"I can help you with the patient list," Casey came in the room, waving a sheet of paper.

The names were alphabetical, with room numbers, doctor and admission date. There were 37 names on the list, with admission dates anywhere from two days to two months ago. Bobby read the list over Alex's shoulder. One name caught both their eyes... Johanna M. Gage.

Alex felt a terrible chill, "I thought she was...in a coma."

"She was...as far as I know," Bobby was deathly pale.

"You.. you've seen her?" she was incredulous.

"Not since...Declan was sent up," he replied. "She...had brain damage from the blood loss. The doctor told me she was in a-a vegetative state, that she was going to a care center."

"Well, obviously _**not**_," she said acidly. "It's her, she did this."

"What? You can't know that!" Bobby shook his head.

"For chrissake, Bobby, this is what she does," she flung back.

"We-we have to vet the other patients, too," he reminded her..

"How the hell can you defend her? She killed three women, kidnapped and tried to kill me..." angry tears filled her eyes.

"I'm not defending her," he bit back. "But we have to investigate _**everybody**_."

She stared at him in stony silence, reliving the nightmare, and remembering the havoc the Gage family had heaped upon them.

Bobby opened his mouth to explain, then heaved a sigh, "Not for one single second have I forgotten what she did to you. Hate that I people I knew...trusted...nearly destroyed you...us. But we still have to do this job. Find justice for Ms. Dalton."

She rubbed her nose with her sleeve, "Hannah is going to yank us off this."

"He may," he acknowledged. "Look, if this is too much..."

She squared her jaw, "I want justice for this nurse, but I want no part of Jo."  
>"Are you asking me to bow out, too?" he queried.<p>

She blew out a breath, "Do what you have to do, just be careful."

"Before anything else, we should grab some lunch," Bobby glanced at his watch.

"Not hungry," she grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, "Don't give me that bullshit, at least eat some yogurt and get some caffeine in you."

She realized he was trying to take care of her, even though the fact that he still cared about Jo rankled her. She acquiesced, accompanying him to a nearby cafe for lunch. Not only did she eat yogurt and a salad, she polished off a treat billed as "a sea salt caramel brownie."

"Salt and chocolate?" he raised an eyebrow as he finished his grilled chicken sandwich and fries.

"The ultimate chick craving at that time of the month," she snarked back, making him laugh.

"So, we're okay?" he asked.

"We're fine, but I'm going with you to interview her," she decided.

"What? Why?" he was shocked.

"Because I plan on shooting her if she tries anything," Alex was deadly serious.

But the interview would have to wait. There was the more pressing matter of Ms Dalton's family as well as interrogating the rest of the nursing staff. After establishing extra security on the unit, and assurances that the patients would remain on the unit locked down, Bobby and Alex returned to One PP to brief Hannah and dig into the minutiae of a murder case. By tacit agreement, they didn't reveal their personal connection to one of the patients.

It was Wednesday afternoon before they were able to speak with Jo Gage, over the objections of her physician.

Dr Satich was adamant that his patient was unable to walk or speak, much less orchestrate a murder. Jo had been admitted to the unit six weeks earlier, due to a blood infection. Her recovery was slow, due to the lingering effects of her blood loss years earlier. The doctor described Jo as being severely brain damaged. While she had periods of wake and sleep, and some purposeful movement, it was uncertain if she processed much of the world around her.

She was in bed, positioned on her side. A Foley catheter bag hung from the bed, draining clear urine. Her hands were unrestrained, and there was a wheelchair in the corner of the room. Bobby came into the room first, with nurse Rebecca Zeller, Dr Satich, and Alex following. Alex kept herself out of Jo's range of vision, partially secreting herself behind a privacy curtain.

Jo had bitten her own tongue off, so desperate was she not to speak to her father. She had been in a coma when Bobby saw her last, feeling he had to tell her that she wouldn't have to worry about seeing Declan again, that he was going to prison, and that he would be there till he died. He also told her about her father's descent into madness, whether it was out of spite or to give her some comfort, he still wasn't sure.

In the three years since, Jo looked much healthier, and the eyes that met his were obviously alert and aware. Her mouth curved into a slight grin, making him certain that this woman was more neurologically intact than she was letting on.

"We're here to ask you some questions about something that happened yesterday, Johanna," Dr Satich began. "Do you remember Nurse Jean?"

Jo answered first with a shake of her head no, then appearing to nod yes, keeping the expression on her face deliberately blank. One hand moved to pick at the edge of her sheet, then her eyes seemed to wander, glaze over.

"I told you, detectives, that she is not cognizant enough to be a witness," the doctor turned to Bobby and Alex.

"Not so sure about that," Rebecca muttered under her breath.

Alex frowned, "Care to elaborate?"

At the sound of Alex's voice, Jo's eyes darted in her direction and her expression became overtly angry. Garbled sounds erupted in her throat.

"I'd rather not say here," Rebecca whispered, turning away from the patient.

Alex exchanged a glance with Bobby, then told Rebecca, "How about we get something to drink?"

"I'll catch up with you in a few minutes," Bobby nodded, as his partner and the nurse left.

After that, Jo again let the blank mask speak for itself. In spite of Bobby's gentle queries, her responses were inconsistent, or totally absent.

Bobby was frustrated, because he was sure she was faking. Her initial response to him was unguarded, happy. She recognized him, he knew it, and appeared genuinely glad to see him. Then she seemed to be confused, unsure, up until the moment she realized Alex was in the room. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and her personality came roaring through. For that moment, Bobby saw what Jo's victims must have seen. And Alex, had she not escaped. The thought shook him to his core.

"I know you can hear me, Jo," Bobby leaned over her bed, his words deadly cold.

Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"You're the daughter of a profiler, you know all the tricks," he continued in a conversational tone. "Just remember, he taught me, too." He turned on his heel and left the room, disgusted.

Dr Satich followed in his wake, scolding the detective, "That was extremely inappropriate, you had no right to talk to my patient in that fashion."

Bobby whirled on him, anger seeping from every pore, "_**That patient**_ is a convicted murderer. She killed three women, and kidnapped and tried to kill a fourth. She may have killed a member of this staff. You'd do well to remember that."

Down the hall, Alex was sipping tea, listening to Rebecca discuss her impressions of Jo.

"I really don't know if I should be talking out of school," the nurse gulped soda. "I mean, she is my patient. And with the privacy things..."

"Look, I don't want you to give out any medical information, just tell me why you said what you did back there. Jean was your boss. Do you think...would she want to help us if the situation were reversed?" Alex countered.

Rebecca nodded, "She would. Uh, when Johanna came to our unit, she really was quite ill. And it was sad, because she was relatively young, no family..."

"That must not be anything new, considering your patient population," the detective said sarcastically.

"No, but she...reminded me of my big sister, Carrie," her lips trembled. "Carrie...died of breast cancer earlier this year."

"I'm sorry," Alex's tone softened.

"Anyhow, I felt sorry for her, so I offered to be Johanna's primary nurse. As she began to recover, she seemed more...interactive. Since she was mute, and brain damaged, it was hard to tell...how much she was aware," the nurse said quietly.

"But something happened to challenge that?" she prodded.

"Jo was in the chair by the window, while I changed her bed linens. I was telling her about my dad, that it was his birthday, and we were having this big surprise party for him," her face was troubled. "We were thinking it would be nice to_** celebrate**_ something in our family. Dad...he has taken Carrie's death harder than anyone, and he...he's a great guy." She took a deep breath. "I was kneeling down, getting ready to flush her IV port with saline, when she picked up the syringe and tried to stab me with it."

Alex felt her heart sink, "Did you report this?"

Rebecca nodded, "I told Jean right away, and we filled out a variance report."

"Did..were you injured at all?" she asked.

The nurse cracked a bitter smile, "No, the syringe was needle-less, so it was a blunt tip. Plus, I moved at the last second, so she missed and it dropped to the floor."

"How...how...could it have been an accident?" Alex wondered.

"No, that kind of movement was deliberate, and took fine motor skills and thought," she was adamant. "I pulled the emergency light for help. After the techs and I got her into bed, she looked at me with this..this smirk. After that, I refused to take care of her."

"How long ago was this?" the detective asked.

"Last Thursday," Rebecca said quietly. "Jean wanted her transferred back to jail, but Dr Satich...he's a new resident and gullible. I was off the weekend, and got the call yesterday..." she started to cry. "I don't know if she did it, but I think she...could."

Bobby knocked lightly on the office door. Alex waved him in.

"Are you all right?" his question was directed as much to Alex as to Rebecca as he took a seat next to his partner.

The nurse cleared her throat and blew her nose, "I just wish...she was back in jail, where she belongs."

Alex looked over at Bobby, "Jo tried to stab Rebecca last week."

"Shit," he muttered.

"I know we need to check out the rest, but..." she dangled the statement, he caught her meaning.

They arranged for extra security on the unit, then headed to the SUV. Alex turned the key in the ignition, still shaken from their encounter with Jo. "We have to tell Hannah," she said quietly.

"I know," he sighed.

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for her," acid dripped from her tone.

"I don't. I used to...because I think how Dec raised her...shaped what she turned into. But she...threatened the person I held most dear. Can't forgive that. And today...when she heard your voice...I knew she was still capable of murder," Bobby said, reaching for her hand.

Hot tears pricked her eyes, "That brain damage act..."  
>"...is just that, an act," he finished her sentence.<p>

"We need to hand this off to someone else," she said.

"But I think I can get her to confess," he protested.

"If she did it," Alex countered. "It will just be another way to manipulate you...us. You have come so far, Bobby. The last thing I want is for the Gage family to tear you up, _**again**_."

He put his head back, "I'm fine, Alex. And I want to put this behind us, once and for all."

"All right," she sighed heavily. "But if you're in it, so am I. No _**way**_ am I gonna let someone else watch your back."

Bobby squeezed her hand tightly, unable to speak.

"How does this happen? Do you look for this or are you two just...shit magnets?" Joe Hannah was pissed.

"Are you kidding? We didn't know what the hell we were getting into!" Bobby practically yelled back.

"You know I have to pull you from this case," the captain shook his head.

"Even if we're the ones who can get her to confess?" Alex protested.

"This is a woman who kidnapped you, Detective. Her batshit father killed your brother, Bobby," Joe reminded them. "Don't matter whether you can break her or not-any half-assed defense attorney will be on this like stink on shit. Not to mention the Chief of D's will chew me a new orifice. Take what you got and give it to Daniels and Falacci." He held up a hand, "This discussion is closed."

They went back to their desks in silence. Alex typed up the witness statements while Bobby organized the file. A courier brought the security vids as they were finishing up.

Alex clicked into her personal email and found a message from her friend Resa. The header read "911 Girls night out." She read the message "Meet at the usual place, Thursday at 6:30, sooner if you're as ready to vent as I am." She chuckled to herself as she replied, "Are you kidding? After the shitfull week I'm having, I'm in."

"What's so funny?" Bobby inquired.

"911 girl's night out tomorrow night, she answered, raising an eyebrow.

"Good for you," he smiled. "First time I've heard you laugh all day."

"Did..did you want to do something together tonight?" she asked.

"No, I am going to watch a few videos," he indicated the pile on his desk.

"Bobby," she warned. "You heard the captain."

"Yeah, but he's gone for the day, and so are Falacci and Daniels," he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes, "Skating on thin ice."

"No, I'm working our case," he countered. "You don't have to stay."

"Come on, leave it and I'll take you to dinner," she pleaded.

"I'll be fine, really," he gave her his most charming Bobby grin.

She walked over and leaned close to his ear, "You are totally hopeless," she whispered.

"And?" he chuckled.

"And I love you anyway," she answered. "I'm going for a run, then I'll bring you back Chinese."

"I may be done by then," he shook his head.

She snorted inelegantly, "Right."

He took no offense to her words as she left the squad. He got a soda and chips from the vending machine, then hauled the video discs to the media room.

Alex felt the stress of the day ease as she ran her usual circuit. Amazing how the days shortened after Labor Day, she mused. She was more than ready for girls night out, especially since it was Thursday, and her second appointment with Olivet. She stopped and got dinner for two and headed back to One PP.

Sure enough, the office was quiet, the lights dimmed except for the media room. Bobby was intently watching the screen, oblivious to the passage of time.

"Hey mister, told you you'd forget you have a home besides this one," she nudged him, waving the fragrant bag of food.

"What? Oh, thanks," he reached for the chopsticks she handed him.

She snatched them away and pressed "stop" on the video player. "Nope, food first."

"Alex!" he protested.

"It's eight o'clock, time to pack it in for the night," she scolded.

"But...I haven't seen enough," he said, frustrated.

"Yes, you have," she said firmly. "Look, we have to brief Falacci and Daniels in the morning, we both have to see our respective shrinks tomorrow, and this is not the only case that needs our attention."

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven cheeks, "I know you're right."

She laughed gleefully, "I do love me an intelligent man!"

He couldn't help chuckling at her expression, "Don't get a big head. And give me those chopsticks."

They sat side by side at the conference room table, speculating about Jo's culpability in the murder, and discussing the upcoming anniversary of 9/11.

"Ten years," she groaned, leaning back in her chair. "Seems like a minute ago in some ways, and a hundred years in others.

"I remember us standing in Deakins' office watching, and not believing it," he sighed.

"The phones ringing, the utter chaos...Being so scared, and yet knowing...we had to get out there and help," she recalled.

"You were scared?" he was surprised. "You sure didn't show it."

"I didn't want to be seen as the weak female cop," she said dryly. "But with cops and firefighters in my family...losing my husband to the job...I was one raw nerve inside."

"All I could think was...how vulnerable we were. I mean, I'd been lots of places when I was in the Army, but to have this happen here...at home..and we couldn't do a fucking thing about it," he mused.

"And we think we put in long hours now," she cracked.

"Slept in the crib for short stretches, walked through the ash and the smoke...the whole city smelled like...burned electrical wire," he remembered.

"The searching, the funerals...afraid to sleep for too long, lest we miss something important," she added.

"And yet we're still here," he took her hand.

"We sure are," she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Wanna come home with me?" he invited.

"Would love to, but I need clothes, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," she said regretfully.

"This weekend, then..or if you need a designated driver tomorrow night," he teased.

"Can't risk a hangover with the hours we'll have to put in this weekend," Alex replied.

"I know, but the offer's open," he stood and offered her his hand.

She dropped him at the train, with a promise to call him when she got home.

Alex was tired, and fell asleep quickly after her goodnight call to Bobby. Her slumber was plagued with nightmares, Jo figured prominently in them. Not the usual ones about the kidnapping, but new, horrifying images.

_Jo with a scalpel, sneaking up on a faceless person while Alex was cuffed to a chair and gagged. The woman's features were distorted with rage, and Alex could do nothing while Jo slashed at the victim's throat. The face was a blur, then she saw it was Jean Dalton's. They were all in the hall outside the nurse's office. The gag muffled her screams so she couldn't warn her. Alex felt herself falling through space, then she was in Jo's hospital room, restrained to the bed. Bobby came round the privacy curtain, and Jo's hand expertly sliced his throat. Blood sprayed over all over Jo and herself. She could actually taste the brassy liquid. This time she screamed in horror as Bobby dropped to the floor lifeless. _

Alex woke with a start, so petrified she couldn't breathe. It took several minutes for her to get her bearings, to realize she was safe. She turned on the lights, and reached immediately for her phone. Shaking, she called the nursing unit where Jo was a patient. After identifying herself and giving her badge number, the officer on duty assured her that all the patients were present and accounted for. She looked over at the clock. Three AM. She got up and threw clothes haphazardly into a tote bag. She was behind the wheel, heading to Brooklyn.

"You are nuts, Alex," she muttered to herself as she navigated west on the expressway.

She unlocked the door to his apartment, not bothering with the lights. She toed off her shoes, and tiptoed into his bedroom, thankful that he seemed to be sleeping well. Alex lifted the covers and snuggled tightly against him.

Bobby woke to the insistent beeping of the alarm. As his arm reached out to shut it off, he encountered a small warm lump pressed to his chest.

"Changed your mind, huh?" he chuckled, stroking her hair.

"Something like that," her reply was muffled into his chest.

"Alex? Are you all right?" he caught the pitch of her voice.

"One of those nights," she burrowed closer in his embrace.

"Sorry, baby," he kissed her hair, acute guilt washing over him.

"Don't be," she regarded him with tired eyes. "Just stay and hold me awhile."

They turned the Dalton murder case over to Falacci and Daniels.

"So, you have squat on this Gage chick," Nola cut to the chase.

"Just a pattern of past behavior, and how she reacted to us yesterday," Bobby countered.

"Right," she said sarcastically.

"What she means is..." Daniels was cut off by his fiery partner.

"I can answer for myself, geez. See anything on the vids that even looked like her?" she asked.

"We got the discs last night, after the captain asked us to turn the case over to you," Alex said pointedly.

"Oh, right, you had the discs in your hand but didn't look at them? Gimme a break!" Falacci rolled her eyes.

"There was no identifiable person on the ones we looked at," Alex exchanged a glance with her partner.

"Thanks for the 411," Daniels said. "We'll let you know what we turn up."

Guyson watched Bobby bounce his leg restlessly, "We've had a bit of a break, once again."

"Hurricanes and holiday weekends," Bobby agreed.

"So, what would you like to talk about?" she left it open ended.

"Ah, we caught a case this week," he began. "And we ran into someone who...I know her, well,_** we**_ know her."

"You and your partner," she clarified.

"Yeah, she..her name is Jo, Jo Gage. She, uh-her dad was my mentor back when I was in the service," he stammered.

"Declan Gage's daughter. You've mentioned him before, but not her," she said.

"Jo...she was his only child, and he raised her...alone," Bobby's tone was bitter. "If you could call that parenting."

"How so?" she was acutely aware of his agitation.

"Dec's wife killed herself when Jo was seven. And he was all about the perps he profiled, even then. He taught me a lot, respected me...and coming from the home I did...I ate it up. But their home was...all these pictures and files of the most depraved...acts of mankind. It was years before I realized what an environment that must have been for a young girl. And in the end...she became one of those perps, to get her dad's attention," He got up and stared out the window.

"She murdered?" Gyson asked.

"Three women," he spat out. "Dec was in town for a conference, and she decided to resurrect one of Dec's murderers, one he never caught. Sebastian. She thought that if she killed these women, he would...engage with her. It was my bad luck that we caught the case."

"I don't understand," she shook her head.

"The second vic was Jo's roommate. She...thought that being a witness to the crime...would bring him around. Instead, he treated her like...she was a piece of furniture. He was so glad to see me, treated me like a long lost son. And that made her...she decided to kidnap and kill my part-my Alex, and frame her father," he turned and sat heavily in his chair.

"Jesus," she breathed.

"Alex...got herself free, before Jo could kill her. And I got her to confess, but not before she killed another woman," Bobby explained. "Jo was found guilty and incarcerated in a mental observation unit in prison due to her obvious psychopathy."

"Her father was instrumental in killing your brother, wasn't he?" Gyson prompted.

"Yeah. He..his brain is shot, chemical exposure, he's in prison upstate," he nodded. "Jo...bit her tongue off, rather than speak to her dad again. She had alleged brain damage after that."

"You said alleged," Gyson observed.

"Alex and I responded to a homicide at a hospital prison ward, I guess you'd call it. Jo is a patient there. We went to interview her, as a potential witness. She seemed to recognize me, even though she couldn't speak. But her reaction to Alex...pure rage. We-we turned the case over to another team, because of our personal involvement," he explained.

"Something else is troubling you," the therapist observed.

"Alex...had horrible nightmares, PTSD. IF I hadn't brought these people into her life..." he was in agony.

"She still has nightmares?" she asked.

"Not for long time...but they're back, and I don't...don't know how to help her," Bobby groaned.

"Is she getting any counseling?" Gyson wondered.

"Yes, she is," he glanced at his watch, laughing sardonically. "Even as we speak."

"Talk about the power of suggestion," Alex flopped into a chair in Olivet's office.

"What do you mean?" the doctor inquired, taking in her patient's hollow eyes and strained voice.

"After...our last session, the nightmares...are back," she answered.

"Can you identify a trigger?" Olivet asked.

Alex ran her fingers through her hair, fidgeted, "Uh, my-um, boyfriend and I were having sex...and he held my hands over my head. Um, it brought me back a bit to when I hung from that hook."

"Restraint like that can be a terrible trigger," the doctor acknowledged. "Did you tell him...to stop?"  
>"N-no, I didn't," Alex bit her lip. "I just kept telling myself that I was safe, that this...was -the man I loved, who'd never hurt me. And the pleasure...was there. But that night...I was right back in that basement...woke up screaming."<p>

"Are the nightmares happening every night?" she asked.

"No. We actually got away for the weekend and it was...marvelous," her mouth curved in a wistful smile."But then this case we caught this week...Jo Gage is a potential person of interest."

"That definitely would shake your equilibrium," she commented.

"It did," Alex admitted ruefully. "So much so that I got into my car at three three AM and drove over to Bob...to my boyfriend's, so I didn't have to be alone.

Understanding dawned on Olivet's face, "Alex, this new relationship...is with your partner, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," she admitted sheepishly.

"You were trying to conceal his identity," the doctor said.

"Um, yeah, I guess. I mean, I'm not ashamed of it...it's just that, the job...you know." Her jaw set mutinously. "Are you going to out us?"

Olivet shook her head, "No, I think you know better than anyone the risks. You've always had strong feelings for each other."

Alex nodded, "Yes, we have. Which makes it...I don't want to tell him what's...bothering me. Because he feels guilty...for exposing me to the Gages...for the danger they wrought."

"You have to be honest with him, Alex," she said.

"I know...and I will, just...not right now. With the 9/11 anniversary coming up, and this case...it can wait," Alex said firmly. She took a deep breath, "And I do feel better, telling someone."

"So you'll be back next week?" Dr Olivet asked.

"I will," she agreed.

Alex pulled out her cell as she walked back to the office, "Hey, how about a late lunch, partner?"

"With my best girl? I'd like nothing better," his tone was jovial.

"So, how did it go?" he asked as they munched on sandwiches at a deli not far from work.

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered.

He shrugged noncommittally, "We talked about Jo...and Declan."

"What a coincidence," she said dryly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, reaching for her hand under the counter.

"Bobby, it's not your fault," she sighed.

"But if I hadn't brought them into our lives..." he fretted.

"They _**were**_ in our lives, they're not anymore," she said firmly.

His fingers moved in her palm, saying "I love you" in ASL."So you know what that means?" he grinned.

"Uh, yeah," she mimicked his movements with her own fingers, smirking.

.

Alex set out for girls night out much happier than she started her day. Her sister Liz was even able to join them. After an evening of drinking, laughing and shooting the breeze, she was delighted to have a personal escort home.

Bobby sauntered over to the table at the back of the bar, "Ladies, I was wondering if anyone needed a ride home."

"Me," Alex got up from her chair, a bit unsteady.

"Hey, won't your boyfriend be jealous, Alex?" Resa wondered.

"Oh, he's very understanding," Bobby winked.

Resa looked puzzled then realization dawned, "Way to keep a secret from your friends, Lex."

Sandy was confused, "What do we care what her boyfriend thinks? So, Detective Goren, I can_** really**_ use an escort home."

"We'll put you in a cab, Sandy," Claire looked on her in pity.

"But why can't Alex call her boyfriend?" she was still not getting it. "I need a man...and this guy..." she pointed to Bobby, "Will do just fine."

Liz explained patiently. "Bobby is already taken. By Alex."

"Cut it out, he is not," Sandy shook her head in dismay.

"Lord, she is wasted," Alex sighed.

"I haven't had but a beer, and that was three hours ago," Resa said. "I'll see she gets home without killing herself or anyone else."

"Have fun?" he asked as she dozed against his shoulder.

"Um, hmm," she sighed.

"Mad at me for outing us?" Bobby asked as they walked up the stairs to her apartment.

"Nope, I'm glad you're my guy," she giggled, pulling at his belt.

"Wait to undress me _**after**_ we get inside," he laughed.

"Why? Nobody will know," she whispered loudly, looking around the hallway.

"Oh, so much for not drinking a lot," he sighed, leading her by the hand to the bedroom.

In spite of her amorous intentions, Alex was asleep before she undressed completely.

Bobby lifted the covers and crawled in bed next to her. Thankfully, their sleep wasn't haunted by old ghosts tonight.

They spent the weekend working, along with their brother and sister officers. There was heightened security, memorial observances and memories of the event that changed the city...and country...forever.

_**Boy, what a long chapter. And dark. Watching Frame made me wonder...what happened to Jo? Was she dead? Did she come out of her coma? Poor Bobby and Alex have these old ghosts tormenting them. Do you think Jo was the culprit? Next chapter will be more fun, family. Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story, and for waiting while my life actually let me write this chapter. Feedback welcome :)**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**I so apologize for the delay in posting. Crazy busy at work and getting ready for the holidays. Thanks for hanging in with this story. Chapter 12. As promised, we get to have a little more fun. There's an Eames family wedding, and that family sure knows how to celebrate! Therapy continues, and another case. But our heroes are their usual stellar selves, so the case will be cleared in record time. Haven't forgotten about that evil Jo, either. I still don't own them, just borrowing.**_

"What a week," Alex groaned as she crawled into bed next to Bobby Sunday night.

"I know," he sighed as he snuggled her to his chest. His fingers played in her hair, fluttered over shoulder, down her arm.

She tilted her head up slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"What?" he gave her his best little boy grin as he cupped her butt.

She took his face in her hands, "Haven't had much of a chance for this lately."

"If you're too tired..." he breathed, his tongue caressing her lips lightly.

She ran her hand inside his briefs, "I think I can summon enough strength for a quickie."

His eyes closed as she squeezed, stroked... "Oh, that's...nice," he whispered hoarsely.

"Just nice?" she ran the tip of her tongue in his ear.

"Um, how about..sexy?" he pushed up the silky nightshirt she was wearing, and began rolling a nipple between his fingertips.

Her breath hissed from between her lips, his touch making her lose focus,

"Steamy."

"Titillating," He cupped her breast, then tickled her ribcage.

She resumed stroking him, feeling him rise against her hand, "Sensual."

"Erotic," he countered, his voice hoarse.

"Salacious," she giggled, speeding up her caresses.

His hips shifted, "Seductive." Bobby slid his hand between her legs.

"Oh, yeah," she mewled.

"Ready to concede defeat?" he stroked purposefully.

She was panting, "Um, uh...libidinous."

"That's...pretty good," he acknowledged, rolling on top of her.

"Your turn," she bucked against him.

He worried the little pearl between her legs, "Lustful."

Alex let herself go over the edge, gripping his shoulders convulsively, "Can't..think...oh, God!"

Bobby entered her, rational thought deserting him as he thrust into her over and over.

As they lay tangled in each others arms, Alex murmured, "Shoulda known."  
>"Known what?" he yawned.<p>

"When it comes to word games, don't mess with the master," she chuckled sleepily.

Alex and Bobby began Monday with yet another fresh murder. The deceased was an Iraqi national, so there was jurisdictional squabbling with Homeland security.

"For Chrissakes, could they just let us work a case without the political bullshit?" Bobby groaned.

"Looks more like a lovers quarrel than a terrorist plot," Alex nodded.

The kitchen was littered with broken dishes and glassware, the living room had cushions flung to the floor. The victim, Ali Jassim Mohammed, was sprawled in the hallway between the bedroom and master bath, a noticeable dent near his temple. He was clad in boxers and an NYU t shirt. The heavy square crystal vase on the carpet was blood-streaked, the presumptive murder weapon.

"No wedding ring," Bobby observed. "Defensive wounds on the hands and forearms."

"Lots of Armani suits, Hermes ties...and some lovely Nyle Brite creations in the closet," Alex observed. She opened the dressers. "Lingerie from La Petite Coquette, and our vic has a very neat sock drawer." She touched a silver framed photo, in which the victim was embracing a woman of middle Eastern descent. "I'm guessing this is the owner of this stuff."  
>The interview with Mohammed's boss gleaned them a considerable amount of background.<p>

"Ali was a great guy, one of our best sales producers," Benton Kaplan shook his head.

"How long has he worked here?" Bobby inquired.

"Ten years, came to us right out of NYU," he said.

"What about his personal life?" Alex wondered.

"Ali grew up in Iraq, but he was pretty Americanized after attending college here. Even wanted to become a US citizen. He...liked the ladies, the blonder the better," Benton admitted ruefully.

"So who is this?" Alex held out the picture of the woman from the crime scene.

"She's his fiancee," the boss replied. "They...they were to be married next year."

"Not particularly blonde," Bobby observed.

"He...it was an arranged marriage, from what he told me. Ali...is an only child. His parents are elderly, and very traditional," he explained.

"Ever meet this fiancee?" Alex inquired.

"Uh, no, she lives in London," Mr Kaplan shook his head.

"We need access to his work space," Bobby said.

The contents of Ali's desk yielded the name of his fiancee, Amira Naseri, along with her contact information. They took possession of his work laptop, as well as sundry personal effects.

On the way back to the office, they discussed the probabilities of the motive being personal.

"I vote for one of the blondes in his life," Alex mused.

"Or a jealous husband," Bobby agreed.

"The fiancee could have found out his...predilection for other women. Flew over here...called him on it," she ruminated.

"Pretty obvious that the things in his apartment...didn't belong to his fiancee," he said.

"So, we look for a blonde live-in girlfriend," she concluded.

"Maybe not a live in, but certainly one who spent a chunk of time there," Bobby said. "We can dump his phones and scan his contacts."

Over pizza in the conference room, they got the murder board going and bounced theories off each other and the captain.

"You got a shitload of suspects," Joe commented. "I vote for the jealous girlfriend theory."

"What, you don't want to send us to London to interview the fiancee?" Bobby said, half in jest.

"Right, the chief of D's would love that," the captain chuckled.

"I've never been there, might be fun," Alex said slyly.

"It's great city," Bobby reached for another slice.

"Enough of that," Hannah scolded. "My two best detectives on a sightseeing tour."

"It'd just be work," Bobby was earnest, despite the twinkle in his eye.

"Not gonna happen at this point," the captain shook his head. "Your murderer is likely right here in the city."

"Tell the feds that," Alex said dryly. The remainder of her thought was interrupted by a beep on her phone. She looked at the text message and rolled her eyes.

"What?" Bobby inquired.

"Bridezilla at it again," she sighed. "Dress fitting tomorrow after work, and various other reminders."

Hannah quirked an eyebrow.

"My niece Ashley is getting married on the first, and I'm a bridesmaid," she said in explanation. "Combine stressed-out college student, pregnant and a bride to be, and this sweet little girl turns into..."  
>"Bridezilla," Hannah chuckled. "Good luck with that," he left the room.<p>

"What else did she say?" Bobby asked, offering her another slice of pizza.

She shook her head at the offer of more food, "Not if I have to fit in that dress. She wants to know if we want a room at the hotel the night of the wedding."

"I think we should. That way we don't have to worry about how much we-um-celebrate," Bobby chuckled.

Alex texted Ashley back, then returned her attention to the case at hand.

From the phone dumps, the detectives were able to track down three women that Ali was juggling relationships with. Of the three, two had solid alibis for the time of the murder. The third, January Davis, they tracked down at her job in an upscale menswear shop.

"Ali's dead?" her blue eyes flooded with tears and she sobbed in evident distress.

"But we were just together...it can't be!"

"Ms Davis, maybe we could take this somewhere with a little more privacy?" Bobby asked solicitously.

"Um, yeah, if you think that would be best," she looked up at him and fluttered her lashes.

Alex rolled her eyes behind the woman's back as they made their way back to the manager's office. Secure as she was in Bobby's love, women like January irritated her.

She took over the questioning after they settled into comfortable leather chairs.

"How long have you been seeing Ali?"Alex kept her tone kind.

"Um, six months? We met here, when he came in to get fitted for new suits," January sniffed into a tissue. "He was so sweet. Ali took me to the best places, dinner, dancing, even to the Caribbean for several weekends. And the clothes..." she closed her eyes and let out a blissful sigh. "Nyle Brite was like, my favorite designer. And he bought me lingerie, shoes, jewelery...really, he was my best daddy."

"Uh, daddy?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, you know, sugar daddy," she purred.

"So, your relationship wasn't...it was based on money?" he clarified.

"Not money, detective. I'm just really being into being taken care of. And Ali was so very generous," Ms Davis was blithe.

"And what did you bring to the party?" Alex asked sarcastically.

The blonde looked confused, "What do you mean?"

"Were you having sex with him?" the detective asked.

"Yes," January sighed.

"So it was a business deal, you give him your body and he pays you with...stuff," Alex said.

"You make it sound so cold," she pouted.

"So did you have any feelings at all for Ali?" she asked.

"Of course I did, I'm not heartless," she was indignant. "And you're mean." She turned her attention to Bobby. "I'd much rather answer _**your **_questions."

"Detective Eames is not mean, she just has a job to do," Bobby's tone was patient, like he was talking to a child. "So, uh, where were you last night until this morning?"

"I was home, with Stogie," she said. "You can ask him."

"And who's Stogie?" Bobby scribbled in his binder.

"He's my other daddy," she explained.

_**Other daddy**_ Alex mouthed to him in disbelief.

"How-uh-many daddies do you have?" Bobby asked.

"Three," January said firmly. "Any more than that is just too hard to juggle with my husband."

"Husband? You're married?" Alex was incredulous.

"Yes, he's in Afghanistan right now, serving our country," January said proudly.

"And he-he knows about your...daddies?" Bobby asked.

"Well, kind of," she demurred. "He thinks I'm a personal stylist."

"Personal stylist," he repeated. "So he doesn't know about the...arrangement you have with these men."

"No, it would just hurt his feelings so much," she shook her head. "I love him like crazy."

"But you cheat on him with other men while he's putting himself in harm's way?" Alex couldn't help herself.

"It's not cheating, I just like pretty things, and I'm _**earning**_ them," she said firmly. "Besides, we're saving money to buy a nice house. I _**have**_ to work, because the military doesn't pay nearly enough."

"So, when was your husband's last time at home?" Bobby wondered.

"He was home in June," she explained. "For two weeks. It worked out just great 'cause Ali was in London seeing his fiancee, and my other daddies were taking their wives on vaca." She paused to think. "You don't think my George killed Ali? Never! He would never!"

The detectives exchanged a glance, thinking the same thought: forget about their vic, why wasn't this woman dead?

"I guess it would make it difficult to make it home for that," Bobby admitted.

"It would be _**impossible**_," she sighed dramatically. "So, now that Ali's dead, I'm short a daddy. I don't s'pose...you'd be interested?" she smiled.

"Me?" he was incredulous. "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Too bad," she sighed.

Forget one of the wives killing this woman, Alex thought. I'll do it. For free.

They left the shop with the contact info on both of January's other daddies. Once in the SUV, Bobby laughed at her expression. "What's wrong, honey?"

"It's a wonder we didn't find _**her**_ body in that apartment," she fumed.

"But she did give us a whole new set of leads to follow," he pretended to be grateful.

She shot him a dirty look as she put the vehicle in gear, "I was about to tell her that NYPD daddies don't make the kind of money required to support her lifestyle."

"Well, maybe she wasn't looking at it from the money angle," he surmised. "Maybe she was looking for...experience."

"Experience," Alex snorted. "She was about to _**experience**_ my boot in her ass."

Bobby couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, and she joined in.

They weeded through witness interviews, security video, financial records, and forensics. Rodgers confirmed cause of death as blunt force trauma. No drugs or other substances were found in toxicology. Trace DNA showed the presence of five women in the apartment, but only one source on the body itself. Vaginal secretions on the decedent's penis proved that one of those women had had sex with him in the hours before the murder.

Alex groaned as they were finishing up Tuesday afternoon, "This keeps getting weirder and weirder."

"Everybody we talk to gives us two or three more suspects," Bobby agreed. "Dinner later?"

"Depends," she shut her laptop down. "On how the dress fits."

"Oh, come on, you look fine," he laughed softly.

"We'll see," Alex sighed.

As it turned out, the dress was a perfect fit. The only alteration was in the hem; the dress was too long. "The curse of being the shortest in the wedding party," she griped to Ashley.

"At least you don't have to worry about a ballooning belly," the bride to be lamented. "I sure hope this kid doesn't grow too much in the next couple weeks."

"You'll be fine, dear," the alterations lady soothed. "We're experts at this."

Alex texted Bobby as she left the bridal shop, "Going to have dinner with Ash

and Liz. K?"

He texted back, "Still ass deep in wit statements. TTYL?"

"Don't work too hard," she replied.

It was approaching nine thirty before she got back to Forest Hills. She reached for the phone as she crawled into bed.

Bobby picked up on the first ring, "Have fun?"

"I did," she yawned. "You'd better not still be at work."

"I'm not, I swear," he chuckled, turning the key in the lock.

"Uh huh, just getting home," she scolded.

"Guilty," Bobby flipped through the mail, sorting junk mail from bills.

"Did you solve our case?" she asked.

"Nope, but whittled our list of suspects a little, The fiancee is still in London, no evidence of a trip across the pond," he replied. "And Daniels told me that Jo is still hospitalized."

"Great," her tone was frosty.

"Apparently she spiked a fever and they transferred her back to intensive care." he explained. "Falacci thinks she's faking."

"So do I," Alex said.

"Maybe. Daniels said the staff on the step-down unit refused to take care of her, too scared," he rubbed his hand over the shadow of beard.

"Can you blame them?" she countered.

"No, can't say's I do," he walked into the bedroom and pulled the covers back on the bed. "So, where are we staying the weekend of the wedding?"

"The Marriott near the church. I called them with the credit card number tonight," she said.

"I'd have paid for it," he protested mildly.

"Hey, you provided us with a fabulous Labor day weekend. And this is a partnership," she reminded him. "Don't go all caveman on me."

"I won't," he got into bed. "Bed's cold without you," he complained.

"Same here," she smiled in the dark.

"How about dinner and a movie tomorrow night?" he invited.

"Um hmm," she yawned. "Love you."

"Love you, too." he let the stresses of the day go.

After another frustrating day on the Mohammed murder, they dined on Italian at Il Buco. Bobby chose the movie that night, a thriller that kept them on the edge of their seats.

"Wow, I'm glad you're coming home with me tonight," she laughed as Bobby drove towards Forest Hills.

"Afraid the movie will give you nightmares?" he teased tenderly.  
>"No, but if we see any guys in full camouflage cross our path, be warned I shoot first and ask questions later," she joked.<p>

Bobby set the timer on the coffee pot while Alex checked her messages. He headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take care of necessities. Clad in plaid pajama bottoms, he hung his suit in Alex's closet. It felt good, he decided, seeing his clothes mixed in with hers. She'd cleared out a couple dresser drawers for him, and his toiletries mixed with hers in the bathroom medicine cabinet. He'd made similar accommodations for Alex at his place. He couldn't remember when (if ever) he'd done that for a woman he was involved with.

Alex came into the bedroom to find him under the covers, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, evidently in deep thought.

"Hey, where are you?" she pressed a kiss on his ear.

"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking," he said, drawing her into his arms.

"Care to share?" she snuggled close to him.

"I was thinking about sharing, as a matter of fact. Like that you've made room for me here," he indicated with a sweep of his hand.

"You've done the same for me," she smiled. "I swear, half of my wardrobe is in Brooklyn."

"I know," he shifted and ran his hand beneath the pale green silk. "My favorite," he said, in aside.

"Is it too much for you, too soon?" she was concerned, putting her hand over his.

"No, not at all," he assured her, massaging her hip and lower back. "It's new to me, though."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed," she felt her breath hitch as his caresses moved to her front, cupping her breasts, rubbing her belly.

"I've never been married, always lived alone," he nibbled at her throat.

"But you haven't been a monk," she laughed softly.

"True," he tasted the inner surfaces of her mouth. "But I don't think my... relationships...have risen to this level of intimacy."

"Speaking of rising," she breathed, untying the drawstring of his pajamas and reaching inside.

"Alex," he groaned. "Love that."

"Consider it...payment for dinner and a movie," she chuckled.

"Don't even think of comparing yourself to that..." his breath quickened.

"What?" she squeezed.

"No work talk, we...agreed," he gasped.

"Okay," she rose over him, then settled him inside her. "Better?"

"Yeah, baby...great..." Bobby closed his eyes and let the sensations flood him.

Alex moved, her rhythm increasing as she drove towards release.

Thursday began with a conference in the Mohammed case. The chief of D's, the captain, and the feds were in attendance, all demanding answers in the still-new case.

They returned to their desks, frustrated with the political rhetoric driving the higher ups. "Let us do our jobs, for Chrissakes," Bobby muttered.

"And I have to miss lunch, besides," Alex remembered she had a session with Olivet.

The therapist was pleased that Alex was keeping her appointments. "How was your week?"

"Good, no nightmares," she replied, settling in.

"Have you had a chance to talk with your partner about your anxieties about restraint?" she probed.

"No, but since I haven't had any more problems, don't think I want to worry him," Alex shook her head.

"But you agree it would be better to discuss it when you're not in the heat of the moment," Elizabeth stated.

"Probably," she acknowledged. "I just don't really want to rock the boat. Things are so good right now."

"Any further contact with your attacker?" she asked.

"No, we turned the case over to Daniels and Falacci," Alex said, but her expression was troubled.

"But?" she asked.

"Bobby keeps tabs on her through the other team," Alex sighed. "And I guess I understand that, he has known her a long time, feels some responsibility for her since her _**father**_..." she spat the word.

"Do you see her as a threat?" the doctor asked.

"You mean emotionally or physically?" Alex huffed. "I know Bobby and I are...on solid ground. My insecurity...is really mine. I love him for his ability to empathize with people, even though some of them don't deserve it. As far as physically, yes, I do still worry about her. She's in a hospital, not prison. The security issues...if she really did murder that nurse, what would stop her from finding a way to escape custody?"

"And you've talked to him about it?" Olivet wondered.

"Not specifically, although I think...we're on the same page. Part of his checking on her status is so I won't have to," Alex mused.

"You say you and Bobby are on solid ground. Can you give me an example?"  
>the doctor asked.<p>

"Last night...we talked about commitment. Leaving stuff at each other's apartments, letting someone share our physical space. I've been a widow a long time, and he's never been married. It's a big step, for both of us," she admitted.

"So you're living together?" she inquired.

"No. We spend most of our time together, but...we don't want to give up our identities. And there's the issue of the job. NYPD still frowns on fraternization, even though there's no 'official' rule," she said.

"What would happen if there were sanctions on the relationship?" Olivet wanted to know.

"I'd choose him, of course. But we fought so hard to get back to Major Case...and we're getting to the age where...financially, it wouldn't be smart to keep poking the brass in the eye," Alex snarked.

Bobby's session with Dr Gyson on Sunday ran on parallel lines. Commitment, co habitation, and the department. He, too, expressed concern over Alex's physical safety.

Alex spent the morning with her dad, cleaning the apartment, and fielding Johnny's not-so-subtle questions about her relationship with Bobby.

"I hardly see you anymore," he protested.

"Well, you know how it is...work is crazy right now," she poured him a cup of coffee, and one for herself.

"I read the papers," he said sarcastically. "Bobby knows he's welcome here."

"Yes, he knows," she stirred a healthy amount of sugar in her cup. "He has a standing appointment on Sundays."

"Still seeing the shrink," Johnny nodded.

"Dad!" she protested.

"You know I got contacts in the department. And I don't think any less of him, as long as he treats my little girl right," he poured a few fingers of scotch into his cup.

"I'm a grownup, remember? Not a little girl," she sighed.

Monday morning began with Hannah calling Bobby and Alex into his office. "Wonder what we did now," Alex muttered under her breath.  
>The captain motioned to them to take a seat, "I got a call from the Richman boy's family last week. They wanted to express their appreciation for the hard work you did."<p>

"We haven't gotten a conviction yet," Bobby sighed.

"But you got the perps behind bars," Joe reminded him. "The family is sorting out the estate, but they wanted to establish a fund that would benefit the NYPD. To that end they have endowed an education fund so that our officers would have a chance to keep current with law enforcement trends. The only stipulation is that you be the first two to benefit."

"Wow, that's...that's very kind of them," Alex spoke first.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed.

"There's a conference in November that I think would be of interest to you both," he handed them a couple of brochures.

"Cyber crime, profiling, human trafficking, forensic advances..." Bobby looked up sharply. "It's in San Diego."

"I'm willing to give the time off if you want to go," the captain grinned.

"San Diego...I've never been there," Alex offered.

"It's been a lot of years since I have," Bobby said.

"So, is that a yes?" Hannah pressed.

"Uh, what about our case load?" Alex inquired.

"You've got six weeks to clear your desks," he replied, grinning.

"We do appreciate it, Joe," Bobby began.

Their boss waved a hand, "But nothing. Look, I know how slammed you've been since you came back to Major Case. The last thing I want is for you to burn out. You can take that week off, consider it a working vacation."

Bobby and Alex exchanged a glance, keeping their expressions neutral.

"So, say thank you and get your butts back to work," Joe laughed.

"Thanks, Joe," Bobby said, rising.

"Thanks, boss," Alex echoed, following Bobby out of the office.

They sat across from each other, still incredulous.

"We need airline reservations, hotel...get the conference registrations faxed," Alex planned aloud.

"A week away," he lowered his voice. "Away from here, away from...this."

"Uh, huh," she grinned. "Just the two of us," she added in a whisper.

Any answer Bobby was considering was interrupted by his phone ringing, "Goren." A pause, then, "You're shitting me. No, we have her address. Thanks, Ira." he hung up and asked, "Want to go bust a certain blonde gold digger?"

"Really?" Alex asked gleefully, grabbing her bag.

"Ira found a number of very angry emails between our vic and Ms. Davis. She threatened him with breach of promise if he didn't keep her 'in the style she was accustomed,'" they hurried to the elevator.

"Can't arrest her for that," she said regretfully.

"But we can bust her chops," he replied. "Would you like to play bad cop?"  
>"Since I'm the mean one," she laughed.<p>

They found their suspect in a lavish apartment in Park Slope.

"Detectives, I-uh, I'm a little busy right now," January said distractedly, looking over her shoulder.

A male voice inquired, "Sugar Baby, who is it?"

"Uh, nobody, wrong apartment," she said, giggling. She turned back to Bobby and Alex, "Please, _**please**_ come back in a couple hours."

"I thought you wanted justice for poor Ali," Bobby pretended to be sympathetic.

"I do, but I'm busy right now," she hissed, trying to shut the door in their faces.

Alex placed her boot in the door, "Which daddy is using your services this morning?"  
>The door was yanked open forcefully, and a man of about sixty, dressed in a black silk robe, boomed, "Can't you people take a hint? The lady is occupied."<br>"She sure is," Bobby and Alex flashed their badges.

"Oh, uh, come in detectives," he stepped back, taking his lover firmly by the arm.

The detectives followed January and the man into a luxurious sitting room.

"So, we haven't met," Alex nodded at the man, who was sitting next to January on the couch, his arm curved protectively around her.

"I'm Lawrence Stogman," he replied.

"But your friends call you Stogie, right?" she said sarcastically.

"Yes, but how did...?" he was puzzled.

"Oh, we've gotten pretty acquainted with your girlfriend, here. She told us about your...arrangement," Bobby said.

"Janny?" the man asked.

"Oh, Stogie, I didn't mean to. She tricked me," January pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Alex.

Lawrence scowled at the detectives, "I still don't understand what you want with Janny."

"You want to tell him or should we?" Alex countered.

The blonde's sullen expression was answer enough.

"Okay, then. Mr. Stogman, can you tell us where you were last Sunday into Monday morning?" Bobby asked.

"Uh, I was home with my wife," he stammered. "What is this about?"

"Your girlfriend's alibi," Alex was succinct.

Stogie looked decidedly puzzled, "Why would Janny need an alibi?"

The detectives both looked at Ms Davis, hoping she would answer his question.

"Stogie, we were together last Sunday, remember? Just like we are every Sunday night," she said sweetly.

"Every Sunday night. Oh, your wife must love that," Alex snarked.

"I live in Connecticut, and work here. I take the train in every Sunday night," he cleared his throat nervously. "And last Sunday...my daughter got married, so I didn't come back to the city until Monday night."

"Should be easy enough to confirm," Bobby nodded.

"You're going to talk to my wife?" he was in a panic.

"Yes, we must verify your whereabouts," Alex said.

January was crestfallen, "But Stogie, I need you to say..."

Alex held up a hand, "Ms. Davis, I must advise you of your rights before you say anything else." She proceeded to mirandize the woman.

Stogie looked on, still mystified, "What did she do?"

"I didn't do a damn thing!" she insisted.

As Alex accompanied the furious January to her bedroom to allow her to dress, Bobby was left to sit with a bewildered "daddy."

Once in the interrogation room, Ms. Davis' bravado seemed to crumble. "I didn't mean to hurt him!"

"Ms Davis, you need to shut your mouth," her attorney, Jane Bell, was vexed.

"I want them to understand! He told me he was getting ready to be married, and I couldn't be part of his life anymore. But he fucked me first. Goddamn it, he _**promised**_ me! He said...I was just...a distraction, and he couldn't afford to have me around," she sniffed. "What a load of shit! He was worth millions-he could afford _**me**_ and a wife!"

"You knew how much he was worth?" Bobby asked.

"Don't answer that," her lawyer warned.

January cast her a withering glance, "You all think that I'm some dumb bimbo, and I'm not! Of course, I checked his financials before I got involved with him, before I see any of my daddies. I'm a businesswoman, after all."

"Why kill him? After all, I'm sure there were other potential, uh, clients, out there," Alex snarked.

"Because he had two other women on the side, besides that homely fiancee," she acted like Alex was an idiot. "I didn't even have a chance to get my beautiful things out of his closet!"

"And why was that?" Bobby asked.

"Because I was all icky from the blood," she sighed.

Bobby and Alex walked into the observation room.

"Jesus Christ," Captain Hannah breathed.

"Just when you think you've seen everything," Bobby agreed.

"Amazing how she kept them all straight," Alex added.

In the bullpen, they pulled together the paperwork for the arraignment. In addition to the confession, they had the statement from Mr Stogman, the computer footprint, and pending DNA. Bobby went out and grabbed them a late lunch while Alex got the reports from the ME's office. She put the finishing touches on the case-file, and made her way to the captain's office.

"You get the easy ones," Daniels complained teasingly when Alex walked past his desk.

"You could have had this one, gladly," she shot back, then paused. "Anything new on the Dalton homicide?"  
>"Uh, the vids were inconclusive. Looks like a woman in scrubs, similar in build to Gage, but she faced away from the camera," his tone was regretful. "Perp wore gloves, which have so far not turned up. The murder weapon was found in a sharps container on the medication cart."<p>

"Maybe she flushed the gloves," Alex opined.

"That's what Falacci thinks," he sat back in his chair.

"And the scrubs could have been sent down the trash chute," she sighed. "Right to the incinerator."

"Want the case back?" he invited.

"No, I don't," Alex shook her head. "Just...keep tabs on Jo Gage. She's dangerous."

"Will do," he nodded.

Bobby glanced at his watch, and considered whether he had time to call his jeweler friend. Deciding to take the time, he punched the keys on his cell, "Hey, Rafe, Bobby Goren. Yeah, got your message. Any thoughts on what I asked you?"

Rafe Mattison was an old friend from the neighborhood, who had a jewelry design business in addition to his little retail shop. "Bobby, my man, just thinking about you. Yeah, I got a couple things on paper. Want to drop by and take a look?"

"Uh, I will sometime this week. Maybe over lunch on Thursday?" Bobby asked.

"That should work," he agreed. "See ya."

Bobby slapped his phone shut and hurried back to One PP, carrying the takeout from a local diner. "One salad and fruit cup for you, one pastrami on rye for me with coleslaw," he set the food out on the break room table.

"What do I owe you?" she asked as they began to eat.

"Nothin', since I stuck you with most of the paperwork," he grinned.

Whether it was her discussion with Daniels, or a more ephemeral reason, Alex's slumber was shattered with another nightmare.

Her body soaked in cold sweat, she felt her heart pounding nearly out of her chest. She was alone, as Bobby had gone out with Lewis and Tom and planned to go home to Brooklyn. She sat up and fumbled for the lamp switch. Three o'clock. Shit. Why did the dreams seem to happen about the time she was kidnapped, even all these years later? She got out of bed, and padded towards the kitchen. She heated water for tea, and grabbed an afghan from the couch to curl up in. She flicked on the TV, strictly for the noise. She dunked the chamomile bag into the steaming cup of water and took a generous sip. She fell back asleep in her chair, leaving her with a stiff neck and in a bitchy mood. And she had to be in court to testify in one of the cold cases she'd cleared. Which meant she didn't even see Bobby until late in the day Tuesday.

"You look like hell," she commented as she dumped her bag on her desk. "Have fun last night?"

He rubbed his neck, "Oh, yeah. Just remind me not to drink like I'm a teenager next time."

"Right," her tone came off more clipped than she intended.

"You don't look so hot yourself. Bad day in court?" he asked.

"Cabot kept me from getting dinged for contempt," she fished through her purse for some ibuprofen. She shook a few into her hand and offered him the bottle.

"No, I'm fine," he shook his head. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just didn't sleep very well," she brushed it off. "Hey, I ran into Claire at the courthouse, and she offered us an alternative to the hotel for the conference, and it's free."

"Really?" he was dubious.

"Jack's daughter Rebecca lives in San Diego, and Jack and Claire usually rent a condo for the month of November. Since the kids have school, they're not going until Thanksgiving this year. She says it's ours if we want it. The email link is..."

she clicked a few keys on her laptop.

He read over her shoulder, "Mission Beach, two bedrooms, two and a half baths...check it out...how far is the convention from there?"

"Uh, about a fifteen or twenty minute drive," she replied.

"Well, it would save the expense report questions on the lodging," he said quietly.

"Was thinking the same thing," she grinned, reaching for the phone.

They spent the night at Bobby's, both too tired to do anything but sleep.

Alex paced Olivet's office on Thursday, describing her most recent nightmare.

"What do you think was the trigger?" the doctor inquired.

She ran her fingers through her hair, "I don't know. Maybe it was talking to Daniels, or because it was a full moon. Or because Bobby wasn't with me that night."

"Did you talk to Bobby about it?" Olivet pressed.

"No, because he feels guilty enough for her being back in our lives," she was exasperated.

Bobby looked at the sketch ideas Rafe had, pointing out one design in particular. "I like this one, but I'd like twelve smaller diamonds between the engagement ring and the wedding band. Can you use the white gold from the original setting?"

"No problem," Rafe scratched out a few new details. "Something like this?"

"Yeah, exactly. What do I owe you?" Bobby pulled out a credit card.

He named a figure and held a hand up, "Hey you don't have to pay today. See if you like it first."

The next few weeks flew by, and Ashley and Ryan's wedding weekend was upon them. Bobby worked on whittling their mountain of paperwork, while Alex took Friday afternoon off for spa treatments, courtesy of Maeve's friend. It was her gift to the ladies of the wedding party.

Alex enjoyed the pampering, and looked forward to spending the weekend with her family. That and a night in a hotel with Bobby would be a lovely preview to their trip to California in November. Between the mani/pedi, hair treatments and massage, she felt utterly relaxed.

Bobby met her at the church for the rehearsal. He wasn't an official member of the wedding party, but he still enjoyed spending time with Alex's family. As he watched the wedding party take their places at the altar, he thought again of the ring hidden in the back of his closet. Had to find the right moment. Not this weekend, but a time when they were alone. Maybe when they went to California.

"Hey, son," Johnny's voice broke his reverie.

"They look happy together, don't they?" Bobby smiled.

"Just babies themselves," the older man shook his head.

"How old were you when you got married?" he chuckled.

"Touche," Johnny replied. ""No matter how old they are, still look at them as kids."

"Guess so," Bobby said solemnly.

"Not too late for you and Alex," he hinted.

"What do you mean?" Bobby's hackles rose.

"You love my daughter and she...she is nuts for you. What are you waiting for?" Johnny wanted to know.

"I-I want to marry her," he measured his words carefully. "But the timing...has to be right for both of us."

"Have you asked her?" Alex's father pressed.

"Not yet," Bobby admitted.

"When you do, just know that you won't get any opposition from me," he clapped him on the shoulder as he got up to leave.

The rehearsal dinner was steaks and ribs, with beer and wine to wash it down.

Alex leaned her head into Bobby's shoulder and asked, "Having fun?"  
>"I am," he smiled, drawing her closer. "It's even better that I can do this..." he kissed her lingeringly. "And not worry what anyone is gonna think."<p>

She returned the kiss, "Um hmm. Hiding it at work is getting harder all the time."

"Do tell," he chuckled.

"I'd rather show you," she whispered into his ear.

Saturday dawned clear and crisp, the perfect fall day. Alex bolted from the bed at seven o'clock, wanting to grab a run before the rat race of the wedding day began. She finessed him into running with her, laughing off his protests.

She ran through the shower, snatched the garment bag holding her dress and lingerie from the closet and was off to the salon by eight thirty, leaving him with instructions on where to be when, and the registration information for the hotel. She'd packed a bag the night before, so he was in charge of getting that to the hotel.

Bobby spent his morning getting a haircut, and picking up their dry-cleaning. He arrived at the church a little after two, in time to watch the the wedding photography. There were family pictures as well; Eames family, Nelson family in all combinations. He and Alex were caught in a candid pose in the doorway of the church. They had been taking a moment alone, heads bent together, smiling. Her chocolate colored dress looked great next to his black suit, and the burgundy tie he wore complemented the bouquet of apricot and yellow roses she held.

Too soon, she left him to take her place in the processional, while he took a seat with Liz and Eric. Nate was the ring-bearer.

The traditional music swelled around them as the ceremony began. Ashley was a radiant bride, and Ryan beamed happily as Jack placed her hand in his. Bobby noted that in spite of Jack and Maeve's previous objections, they seemed happy with their daughter's choice of life partner. The priest began the words so familiar, even with his years as a lapsed Catholic.

Alex stood at the altar, her heart overflowing with happiness. She was with her family, and now had Bobby in her life. Maybe someday they would stand to be married, too. But for today, Ryan and Ashley were beginning their own little family. She blinked tears away, remembering the day her eldest niece was born. Her mother was alive and well then, and Anne and Johnny rejoiced in the birth of their first grandchild. There was such hope that day, before their family was marked with sadness and loss. Alex hoped with all her heart that her mom was looking down on them in joy.

After they were pronounced husband and wife, Ryan and Ashley eschewed the traditional receiving line in favor of ushering their guests out. The new Mrs Nelson whispered as she hugged Bobby, "Now get busy and marry Aunt Alex so this baby can have a new uncle."

Bobby merely grinned as he kissed her cheek, then shook Ryan's hand.

Alex rode with Bobby in the Shelby to the hotel. "What a fabulous day," she sighed happily, sniffing her bouquet.

"Perfect weather for the wedding," he agreed, reaching out to take her hand. "You were the most beautiful woman in that church."

"You weren't so bad yourself," she pressed his hand to her cheek. "So glad you're here."

He pulled into the hotel parking lot, "Thank you for asking me."

"My family isn't too much for you?" she asked.

"I like your family," he fingered a curling tendril of her hair. "And being included in happy times...something I missed out on."

"I know it's not the same," she cupped his face in her hands.

"It's fine, Alex," he assured her. "Being with the people you love-that love you...is more than I could ever ask for."

The reception was wonderful, a typical Eames celebration. Through it all,

dinner, toasts to the new couple, and dancing far into the night, Bobby was treated as family. They were impressed by his dancing skills and his charming conversation. Alex tried not to be too jealous when she had to surrender her dancing partner. At ten o'clock, the bridal couple got ready to toss the ceremonial bouquet and garter. There was much hooting and hollering as Bobby and Alex were the recipients of the traditional "next to be married" trinkets.

The next hours were spent dancing, laughing and drinking. Ryan and Ashley had retired to the honeymoon suite before midnight, but the rest of the family enjoyed the ballroom until nearly three AM.

"Maybe I should carry you over the threshold," Bobby chuckled as they exited the elevator.

"I caught the bouquet, not a ring," she giggled, snapping the garter he wore as an armband.

"Trying to be romantic," he fumbled with the key-card.

"You're _**plenty**_ romantic, without throwing your back out, baby," she grabbed his lapels and kissed him.

"Couldn't throw my back out carrying a little thing like you," he spanned her waist with his hands, then sought the zipper of her dress.

"I want to save your back for other...pursuits," she pushed on the door handle.

The door had scarcely clicked shut, when she pushed him against it, "Been wanting to do this all night." She busied herself unknotting his tie, and working the buttons on his white dress shirt.

"And I've been wanting to see what's under this very fine dress," he located the zipper pull and tugged it down. He palmed the skin of her shoulders, fingers encountering the smooth black silk of her lingerie, lifted her against him to bestow a few hungry kisses.

Alex divested him of his jacket, throwing it carelessly to the floor. The tie and shirt were next, then his t shirt, "Finally, some skin," she bit near a nipple, then soothed it with her tongue.

"Aw, baby...that feels so good," Bobby groaned, feeling himself harden under ministrations. "Speaking of skin..." he slid the dress from her shoulders, and it fell in a whispery puddle at her feet. He held her at arms length, "Very, _**veree **_nice." He dragged out the syllables.

Alex spun slowly, casting a flirtatious glance over her shoulder, "Bought just for you."

He took a seat on the nearest chair, his knees rather unsteady from the combination of booze and arousal. Bobby moved to remove his shoes but Alex reached out a hand to stop him.

Kneeling, she removed his shoes and socks, her hands stroking sensuously. She looked up at him, a sexy grin curved her lips. She moved to his fly, working first the button, then catching the zipper pull in her teeth. She blew a warm breath over his groin, and worked her hand inside his briefs, freeing his erection.

His fingers worked the pins from her silky hair, undoing the chignon and letting the strands fall about her face. Bobby's breath hitched as her tongue made contact with his skin, "Maybe we should take this to the bed."

"Nuh-uh," she breathed, "Right here." Alex rose to her feet, reaching for the hem of her slip.

"Let me," he requested. Bobby hitched the silk and lace to her waist, locating and removing her panties, and fingering the delicate lace of the garter belt and stockings. "Come here," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss in the hollow of her hip, then moved to her center.

Alex's legs were in imminent danger of collapsing as his tongue sought the damp folds. She braced her hands on his shoulders, gasping and sighing as he pleasured her, "Now, need you now," she moaned, straddling his lap.

"Kiss me, baby...Oh, yeah," he threw his head back as their bodies joined. The rhythm became nearly frantic as they sought to satisfy the other.

Afterward, they stayed entwined on the chair. Alex spoke first, "Shit, I still have my shoes on," she glanced down at the shiny black heels.

"But that's sexy," he commented, hooking a strap of the sheer black slip.

"Now, I think I'm ready for bed," she murmured against his mouth.

He lifted her as he stood, both of them laughing as his pants fell to the floor.

"Would probably work better if you put me down," Alex remarked..

He kicked his pants and briefs aside, while she ditched her shoes and slip. Bobby unhooked her bra, but teasingly told her to keep the garter and stockings in place.

"Indulging in a fantasy?" she chuckled, reaching into the suitcase after taking her turn in the bathroom.

Bobby had turned the covers down and was climbing into bed, "We can indulge in one of yours, too."

She retrieved two little bottles, "Remember these?"

"Uh, yeah," Bobby grinned.

"You do me, I'll do you," she handed him one of the bottles.

"Not sure if I have another round in me," he said sheepishly.

"Me either, but we have the room until noon," she laughed.

They did have the strength for one long, slow interlude. The first pale threads of dawn were streaking the eastern sky when they fell into a sated sleep.

Bobby and Alex were the last to arrive at the Sunday brunch, causing a great deal of Eames family ribbing and trash talk. They watched Ryan and Ashley open gifts, then straggled on home. Bobby left Alex in Forest Hills, then headed to Brooklyn. As much as they were loath for the weekend to end, Alex had developed a splitting headache, and didn't feel she would be very good company.

Bobby wheeled the Shelby towards home, pretty tired himself. He grabbed his overnight bag headed towards the door. He felt for his cell phone, frowning as he realized he'd neglected to turn it on since Saturday morning. Granted, neither he nor Alex was on call, but still...He heard the insistent beep of missed calls and new voice messages. Ten missed calls, all from Hannah, and six messages. He put the key in the lock as he scrolled to the text messages. Message one: Jo Gage escaped-call ASAP. Bobby frantically pressed the speed dial as he opened the door. Alex, had to tell Alex! Pick up, pick up! He urged silently.

"Yeah, what did you forget?" her voice sounded sleepy, cross.

"It's-it's Jo, she's out," he began. The rest of his sentence was lost...he felt something whiz past him, a sharp pain on the back of his head, then blackness.

"Bobby? _**Bobby!**_" Alex screamed as the line went dead.

_**Oh, I am so, so mean! I promise that the next installment will be posted in a much more timely fashion than the last.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Happy New Year, CI fans! How very mean of me to end the last chapter where I did! I had no idea it would take me this long to update. Holidays, work and being miserably sick didn't help matters. Boy, did I have trouble whipping this chapter into shape. Too much detail? Too little? For better or worse, this is chapter 13. I don't own them, just love borrowing them.**_

Alex's heart pounded in her ears as she hastily hit redial on her phone. Voice mail. "Damn it!" She tried his land line. Answering machine. She grabbed her keys and searched through her purse for her cell phone. Powering it up, she noticed the list of missed calls. She pressed the contact "MCS" as she ran down the stairs.

A familiar feminine voice was prodding Bobby to wake up, with an Australian accent.

"Hey, I didn't hit you that hard," she clucked. "Get up on this chair."

His head swam, "Nicole...you're dead." He couldn't make his mouth work very well.

"Really? You always said I had nine lives," she took advantage of his disoriented state to secure his extremities to the chair with zip ties.

"Drugged me," he shook his head, trying to clear it. "Your specialty."

His captor remained behind him, just beyond his line of sight, but her voice seemed to come from near the side door. He was in the living area of his apartment, facing half away from the front entry. He tried to free himself, but the ties cut deep.

"Patience," the voice scolded. "This will be over soon."

"What...do you mean?" The fog was lifting, even though his head hurt like a son of a bitch.

His attacker moved into his line of sight, "Surprise, Bobby!"

He felt the color drain from his face, "Jo!"

"Well, who else? After all, dear old Dad offed Nicole years ago," she sighed.

The voice was odd, and her lips didn't seem to move. Not Nicole's voice at all, but an approximation. "Ventriloquism," he muttered.

"One of those things one learns while confined to bed, in a vegetative state," she smirked. "And my tongue is still a _**little**_ functional, don't you think?"

His eyes followed her as she paced, his heart sinking as he realized she was holding a gun. His gun. "Dec...said you were clever."

"Don't say that!" she snapped, striking the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up about him."

"What..what do you want?" he tried to draw her out.

"Freedom," she bit out.

"And killing that nurse was your way out?" Bobby was sarcastic.

"That bitch was going to send me back to jail. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let her stop me," she reached for a roll of duct tape and unspooled a length, moving towards him.

"Then why show up here, if you wanted to be free?" he pressed, jerking his head away from her touch.

"Have unfinished business with your partner," she sneered. "Or, should I say, your lover?" she picked up a framed snapshot from the shelf above the sofa. "Boy scout Bobby Goren, fucking his little Eames. How does the NYPD feel about that?"

"You...leave her out of this!" he was desperately trying to free himself.

"No. I thought I'd kill you both, you know. After all, you stole Declan from me. My only parent." She knelt in front of him. "Then I got here, looked around and saw her stuff in the closet, the bathroom...and came up with an alternate plan." She tightly wound the tape around his mouth. "I'll finish the job and let you watch. You took my family, I'll take yours. Tit for tat."

Bobby tried to fight the vomit rising in his throat. He couldn't let it happen-Alex...the love of his life...he felt the hot prick of a needle in his neck, then the fog moved in again.

"Pick up, damn it," Alex whispered impatiently.

"Hannah," was the terse reply.

"Jo has Bobby!" the words burst from her throat.

"Hold on, hold on, where are you?" Joe tried to maintain his composure.

"Just leaving home. He called me and was cut off," Alex practically yelled.

"And he was at home?" the captain grabbed his jacket, and his piece.

"Yeah, I think so, I'm on my way there now," she forced herself to take a breath. "How long has she been out?"

"They were taking her back to jail when she escaped from the ambulance yesterday morning. Slit the paramedic's throat. Figure she must have had help," he explained.

"Don't bet on it, she's smart," Alex groaned.

"We've had a team covering Bobby's place. No movement," he explained. He paused as an urgent voice interrupted. "I stand corrected. Team saw him go in."

"Why didn't they stop him?" she asked in agony.

"We've been trying to warn both of you all weekend, Alex," Hannah felt his anger rise.

She felt the smack of guilt, "We were at my niece's wedding, not on call."

"I realize that, but you can't confront her on your own, Detective," he put the call on speaker and waved to Daniels and Falacci.

"Then you'd better hurry up," Alex clicked the end button on the phone and tossed it into the console. She reached under the seat for her seldom-used flasher, powered it up, and hit the gas.

The captain was yelling out orders as he ran for the elevator.

She literally felt like she was operating in a parallel universe. Detective Eames expertly maneuvered her vehicle towards Greenpoint with all the defensive driving skills of an NYPD vet. Alex Eames the woman was experiencing the terror of potentially losing the man she loved, every scenario flashing through her brain. In record time, she was turning down Bobby's street. She made the unmarked surveillance vehicle about fifty feet from the front of the building. Alex left her car double parked and sprinted towards the officers, badging them by banging on the windshield.

"Detective, we've..." the younger of the two officers stammered.

"Save it. I'm going in, and I expect you to back me up," Alex interrupted. "There's a back entrance, and I want you to take the front. His apartment is on the first floor, last unit on the right."

"But Captain Hannah said..." Officer Johnson, as senior partner, was nonplussed.

"Look, my partner is likely in mortal danger, I'm not fucking waiting for the calvary to get here. I'm keeping my mobile line open, it'll have to do as a wire," she dialed dispatch and informed them of her plan, cursing the faded light as even as she ran between the buildings, and cut through the alley. She tucked the phone in her bra, speaker facing out, thankful that the shirt she wore was one of Bobby's cast off t shirts. It would be baggy enough to conceal the bulge, but thin enough to preserve the sound quality. She took her key and turned it in the lock as quietly as possible then came through the doorway, gun drawn. She heard the report of a gun, felt a burst of heat on her left shoulder.

"Put it away, Eames," the voice was off to her left. Alex was momentarily off kilter, both from the pain and the dimness.

Alex was stunned at the voice, "No fucking way."  
>Jo reached for the light switch, "If you don't, he dies."<p>

Gage was pointing a gun at her with her right hand, while holding a scalpel to Bobby's throat with her left. He looked barely conscious, tethered to the chair, with duct tape gagging him. Alex took it all in, registering that this was her nightmares come to life.

"You think you're going to get away with this?" Alex tried to keep her voice steady.

"Well, I was able to get here, wasn't I?" she laughed.

"Murdering your way out of the system," Alex saw that Bobby was trying to open his eyes. "There's a surveillance team out front. I've called for backup."

"Oh, those jokers?" Jo's laugh was nearly maniacal. "Barely old enough to shave. _**Put the gun down**_."

At that moment, there was the sound of a battering ram against the front door. "_**NYPD!**_"

Alex yelled, "She's got a gun and a knife!" She saw the scalpel move across Bobby's throat and a spray of blood...she aimed towards Jo's head and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter spattered as she fell lifeless to the floor. Alex rushed forward, using her hands to hold pressure on Bobby's gaping wound.

The apartment was filled with officers and chaos reigned the next several minutes. Call in EMS!" Daniels yelled as Officer Johnson checked Jo for a pulse.

Johnson was pale as he shook his head, "She's gone."

Alex cried out, "Help _**him!" **_She was ripping the duct tape from his mouth, "Bobby, it's going to be all right, stay with me," she said into his ear.

"Give us some room," the paramedics pushed her to the side and their efforts became a blur.

"Eames, you're hit," Hannah looked at the spreading red stain on her shoulder.

She looked numbly at it, "Just a graze, I'm fine!"

"Get another bus," Falacci barked into her radio.

"Don't need it, going with Bobby," Alex insisted, trying to see the medics work.

"Detective, stand down, that's an order!" Hannah reached for a chair and sat her firmly in it.

"She drugged him, I don't know with what," she said.

"He's coming around, ma'am," the medic, Linda, said as they loaded Bobby on a gurney.

An oxygen mask was clamped on his pale face, an IV was infusing rapidly. The other medic, Andrew, was holding pressure on the neck wound.

"Alex, where's Alex?" Bobby mumbled, trying to grab for the mask.

She shook off the captain's grasp and leaned over her partner, brushing her hand over his forehead, "Shh, I'm here, everything's all right."

"Nicole...or was it Jo?" he shook his head from side to side.

"She's gone, don't worry, sweetie," she tried to hold him down.

"You're okay?" his voice was weak, his dark eyes haunted.

"The famous Eames bullheadedness rides again," she tried to smile, but couldn't.

"Hey, man, we'll look after her," the captain assured him.

"Glad," he sighed, his eyes drifting shut.

"Let's go," Andrew urged.

"I'm going with him," Alex was adamant.

Linda gave her shoulder a quick glance and pronounced it a graze. "Might need some stitches, but you'll live." She slapped a dressing on.

In the ambulance, Bobby remained out, worrying Alex. The medics had grabbed the syringes Jo had used. They were hospital grade, the sedative Versed and the narcotic Fentanyl. Andrew assured Alex that the medications were responsible for Bobby's sedation rather than his blood loss. His vital signs were relatively stable.

Once in the ED, Dr Delgado looked at the wound, which was approximately ten centimeters in length, and down to the fascia. Luckily, the carotid was intact, but he recommended a surgical repair. "Does he have any family?"

"Me, I'm his partner," Alex said. "I also have his medical power of attorney."

"Then I need to speak with you," he gestured to the side.

"I'll be honest with you, Detective Eames. Your partner sustained a blow to the head, and he was injected with two powerful substances. Anesthesia under those circumstances could cause problems. Any other pertinent medical history?" the doctor asked.

"He's not on any medications, he's pretty active," she bit her lip. "He was hospitalized for dehydration...a breakdown three years ago. He's been under a lot of emotional stress the past several years, but he's...he's taking better care of himself, lost a lot of weight, exercises...but he does still smoke."

"How much?" the physician asked.

"Half a pack a day, sometimes more," a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "He thinks I don't know how much."

"We do need to address the laceration, but we need to do a head CT to make sure the head blow isn't a brain bleed," he explained. "Was he altered at the scene?"

"No, he knew who I was," she was worried. "How risky is the surgery with the drugs she gave him?"

"Well, they should be metabolized through his system pretty soon. And we need to address your injury," he indicated her shoulder.

"I'm fine, someone can fix me up after I know he's all right," Alex said emphatically.

The head CT was negative and Bobby wakened enough that he was considered a candidate for surgery.

Alex walked alongside him as he was wheeled to pre-op holding.

"You're arm-there's blood on it," he scowled a bit.

"It's nothing, just a scratch," she shook her head.

"Sorry," his expression shut down a bit.

"Not a damn thing to be sorry for," she whispered. "I'm alive and so are you. You warned me, and that saved my life."

"Love you so much," he sighed, tears in his eyes.

"Love you, too, big guy," she kissed him tenderly. "And I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Get your arm fixed," he said drowsily.

"I will," she grinned.

The nurse led her to surgical waiting. But she wouldn't be waiting alone. Captain Hannah was waiting with two IAB detectives.

"Sorry, Alex, held them off as long as I could," Joe said.

"It's all right," Alex sighed, rubbing her aching arm. "Let's get this over with."

"Do you need medical assistance, Detective?" Lieutenant Boyson inquired.

"She does," Dr Delgado interrupted. "Ms Eames, let's find a treatment room. Also, the desk secretary says you've got a boatload of family waiting." He cast a sarcastic eye towards the IAB cops. "You can interrogate her as soon as she gets stitched up."

"Thanks, but I could have answered their questions," Alex said as the doctor snagged a nurse and led her to a treatment room.

"Hey, my dad and brother are NYPD, so I get the IAB. They can wait," he replied.

Once her wound was stitched, she suffered through the debriefing with internal affairs. They collected her clothes as evidence, so the hospital staff loaned her a set of scrubs. Her temper was short, and she was worried about Bobby. "Look, you have our phones, both our guns and the interviews with the rest of the team. You've undoubtedly tossed Goren's apartment. You have about two hundred witnesses who put us in another borough the whole weekend."

"There's no need for attitude, Detective," Sergeant Yokas commented.

"Attitude? An MCS detective is in surgery from wounds inflicted by a prisoner that was allowed to escape DOC custody. I'm tired, worried, and I want to see to my partner and my family," Alex snarked.

"That should be all for the night, Detective," Lieutenant Boyson ended the interview.

Back in the waiting room, Alex found Falacci, Daniels, Johnny, her sister Liz, her brother Patrick, Joe and Sharon Hannah, and Claire McCoy.

Johnny rose and gathered his daughter close, "Alex, you scared us to death." His voice shook with emotion.

"I'm all right, Dad," she assured him. "Got the Eames constitution." She brushed her hand across her eyes. "It's Bobby that needs our prayers right now."

As if he heard her words, the surgeon, Dr Yi, came into the room. "Are you Robert Goren's family?"

"We are," Johnny held onto his daughter's arm.

"He came through the surgery just fine. The laceration was very clean, so it was mostly a matter of rejoining the layers of tissue. We'll keep him until morning, then he can be discharged," the surgeon assured them. "Any questions?"

"Can I see him?" Alex asked.

"He'll be in recovery for about an hour, then yes. He may be groggy, with not a lot of memory of the event, because of the medication he was injected with," he explained.

"You should go home and get some rest, Alex. We can be here for Bobby," Joe said kindly.

"I'll rest better knowing he's in arm's reach," she replied, sinking into a chair.

"_**Just keep your mouth shut, I came to finish what I started," the voice hissed in his ear.**_

"You can't have her, we waited so long," Bobby murmured. "See you dead first."

Alex woke to his voice; he was thrashing about the bed. She was out of her chair like a shot, "It's okay, Bobby, you're having a nightmare."

His eyes fluttered open, and he clutched her arm, "You're alive, she didn't hurt you."

"Of course not," she stroked his cheek.

"Seemed so real, she tied me up...did that happen?" he was puzzled.

"Yeah, but it's all over now," she sighed.

"But I have to know," he insisted.

"What do you remember?" Alex gave him a few ice chips to moisten his lips.

He sucked on the coolness gratefully, then said, "I dropped you off at home, then it gets...spotty. Thought it was Nicole, then figured out...Jo. She said..." his eyes closed. "She said she was going to kill you, and make me watch."

"Oh, sweetheart," she tried to keep the tears at bay.

"I heard a shot, maybe two? I dunno," he groaned. "Then lots of voices, Joe's, yours...what happened?"

Alex rubbed her hands over her face, "Jo escaped custody Saturday morning. She somehow got into your apartment, drugged you, tied you up and threatened to shoot me."

"How...how did you get there?" he still looked confused.

Her answer was forestalled by the night nurse, Hope, "Mr Goren, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"My neck hurts," he finally realized, trying to pull at the bandage.

"No, no, don't touch," Hope warned. "You have a pretty big cut there, and a knot on your head."

"Fucking great," he muttered.

"Are you nauseated?" Hope checked his vital signs, readjusted the dressing.

"No, my head hurts and I'm thirsty," he replied.

"You can have a bit of water, and a pain pill," the nurse assured him.

"No drugs," he shook his head impatiently. "An ice pack, if you got it."

"Tough guy, huh? I'll be right back," she left the room.

"Well?" he looked over at Alex.

"The captain tried to warn us, but we had our phones off. You must have gotten one of his messages and called me, to warn me...then the call cut off in the middle," she steadied her voice. "That had to be the longest fucking drive of my life."

"What did you do, storm the place?" he asked.

"Pretty much," she grinned.

"Then what about the gunshots?" Bobby pressed.

"Bobby, I-um, Jo shot at me when I came in the door," she began.

"Were you hit?" he sat up in the bed.

"Don't pull out your IV, damn it," she scolded. "Just a little graze, took a whole seven stitches in my shoulder, see?"

He strained to look at the band aid, "Thank God. But the other shot..."

"When the calvary stormed your apartment, she tried to slit your throat," Alex gulped. "I shot her. I'm sorry she hurt you...before I could get a shot off."

"She's dead?" he asked, rubbing her arm.

"Yeah," she let the tears spill over. "I should have been quicker."

"You saved my life, Alex," he was incredulous.

"IAB took a slightly...dimmer view of my actions," she sniffled.

"Get up here," he grabbed her hand.

"The nurse will be right back," she scowled.

"She can find her own man," he insisted.

"Crazy," she muttered, but eased the side-rail down and carefully snuggled next to him.

"Heard that before," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

The nurse returned to find them soundly asleep, her patient's arm thrown over his partner's waist. She put the ice pack on his neck and left the room.

Too soon, sunlight woke Alex. She felt stiff and sore, and twisted her neck gingerly. What the hell? Yesterday's events came rushing back, and she panicked when she realized she was alone in the hospital bed. "Bobby?"

He emerged from the bathroom, dragging the IV pump. "I'm right here, baby."

She sat up and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, "Jesus, scared me for a minute." She looked closely at him. There was a nasty bruise on his left cheekbone, and there was more bruising on his neck, where the dressing ended. "Should you be up?"

"Hauling this thing to the john is better than the urinal," he gave an impatient wave. "Besides, figured I'd better look alive for my IA dressing down." He took a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"IA, shit, I'd better get out of this bed," Alex said, leaning over to put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his gray curls, letting a few tears fall.

Bobby returned her embrace, fighting a sense of remorse that he had brought more turmoil into her life.

As if reading his mind, she raised her head and shook his shoulders lightly, "Hey, you'd better not be blaming yourself for this."

"But I do, all these people from my past, trying to..." he was cut off by her hand over his mouth.

"Jo is dead, and we're alive. No one else will have to suffer at her hands. It's over," she said firmly.

"But your nightmares, your PTSD," he protested.

"Oh, I expect they'll be around, but I'll go to therapy, and so will you. And we have each other," Alex stroked his scalp, trying to avoid the bumps.

"I must've done something right, to have you," he pressed his face into her chest.

A knock at the door made them jump. The day charge nurse, Betty, cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but there are some detectives here. Are you up to that?"

"I am," Bobby nodded. "Just give us a minute."

Alex moved away from him, and folded the blanket that had fallen on the floor, "They're going to make me leave, I know the drill."

He patted her butt and gave her an encouraging grin, "Not anything I can't handle. Go get me a real breakfast," he pointed to the yogurt and fruit on his tray.

Alex shook her head, laughing as she grabbed the food. "Be back in a bit," she blew him a kiss.

Once in the hallway, she took the back exit, away from the waiting area where the IA suits sat. She located a bank of elevators, and headed for the coffee shop. She found a seat in the corner booth, and ordered a large coffee to supplement the fruit and yogurt. She pawed through her purse, then realized that her phone was still with IA. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"My sentiments exactly," Captain Hannah took the seat across from her. "Good morning, Detective."

"Is it?" she tore open three packets of sugar and dumped into the steaming cup. "IA is upstairs with Bobby, no doubt tearing him a new asshole."

"They may be a little up close and personal with him," he acknowledged as he bit into a bagel. "But I think he can handle it."

Upstairs, the IA detectives were drilling Detective Goren, but he was holding up well. The few hours of rest had restored some of his memory and he recounted those succinctly.

"So Ms Gage confessed to the murder of Jean Dalton?" Lieutenant Boyson reiterated.

"Yes, she did," Bobby affirmed. "She also threatened my life and that of Detective Eames."  
>Sergeant Yokas asked, "How did the suspect gain access to your residence?"<p>

Bobby shook his head, "Don't know. I was away for the weekend, my partner's niece got married."

"When was the last time you were home?" Boyson asked.

He closed his eyes, considering, "Uh, Saturday afternoon, maybe 12:30. Left to get a haircut about ten, ran another errand, then came back to leave my dry cleaning in the bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place at that time. Grabbed my overnight bag and then headed over to the church."

"And you didn't return until Sunday afternoon?" Yokas' tone was slightly incredulous.

"I stayed at the Marriott. It was a wedding dance, lots of drinking. Seemed more prudent to stay over than drive," Bobby said pointedly.

"Uh huh," The IA detectives exchanged a glance.

Boyson cleared his throat, "Uh, we noticed there were signs of a woman living in your apartment."

"And?" Bobby's tone was guarded.

"The clothes didn't belong to Ms Gage?" Yokas asked.

"Hell no," he was angry now. "Look, I'm in a relationship with a woman. Last I checked, that isn't noteworthy."

"Can this woman verify?" the sergeant pressed.

"She can, but I'm not telling you who she is. It's irrelevant," Bobby shot back.

Yokas rolled her eyes, "Detective, we decide what's relevant."

Boyson shook his head at his partner, "Detective Eames statement, the CSU reports and the wits all verify the sequence of events. We appreciate you speaking with us this morning."

Back in the coffee shop Alex spooned up a bit of yogurt. "Right," she said darkly. "So, do we have to worry about filing for unemployment?"

He chuckled, "No, it was a good shoot. You may even get a commendation."

Alex barked out a sarcastic laugh, "I just want us to keep our jobs."

"Off the record, you did the city a favor. IA will talk to your partner, the shoot will be judged justifiable, end of story," he leaned forward earnestly.

"Except that Bobby's apartment is a crime scene, and we both got to be guests of this fine establishment," she countered.

"Seriously, Alex. It's all over but the paperwork," Joe said.

"Bobby is blaming himself," Alex took a hefty bite of melon.

"Wouldn't be Bobby if he didn't," Joe chuckled.

"I forget, you've known him a long time," she sighed, leaning back.

"The therapy thing, I think it has helped him. And the department is going to make you both sit down for a few sessions. Protocol for officer-involved incidents," he reminded her.

"I don't have a problem with that, and neither will he," she said emphatically.

Hannah handed her the keys to her car, "Uniforms left it in the One PP garage, thought you'd like it back. It's in valet parking, on me."

"Thanks," she said. "And if I didn't say so last night, I-we are grateful that you and Sharon were there."

"No problem," Joe scarfed the last bite of bagel. "How long before Bobby gets sprung from this joint?"

"After lunch, I guess," Alex glanced at the clock. "I need to find him something for him to wear home. I doubt IA has released his apartment," she added dourly.

"You could probably get in to get some clothes for him," Hannah said. "There's still a uniform posted there, since we sort of trashed the door." He snapped his phone open and made a call. "There you go."

"Thanks," she smiled.

"If Bobby needs a place to stay, Sharon has the guest room ready," Joe said.

"I think he'll be fine with me," Alex replied evenly.

"Alex...with IA looking into your lives, uh, that..." he broke off awkwardly.

"Might be a bad idea? Sorry, he's not going out of my sight. I'm the only family he has.

If the department has a problem with it, too bad," she challenged him.

"Understood," he assented.

Alex got up to leave, again expressing her appreciation for his concern. She retrieved her car and headed to Bobby's, taking the street behind as there were still a few news trucks parked in front of the building. She stuffed her hair under a ball cap, and slipped into the back entrance. She badged the uniform and was granted access.

Once inside, her stomach roiled at the stench of old blood. Bobby's overnight bag lay near the door. She picked it up, taking in the place she'd looked on as a second home. The chairs were tipped over, blood and brain matter were sprayed on the wall and over the worn sofa and coffee table. A sanguinary pool congealed on the rug. The zip ties and duct tape were discarded nearby, along with wrappers from the medical supplies. Fingerprint dust covered every conceivable surface.

Alex stepped into the bedroom and kicked the door shut. She dumped the dirty clothes in the hamper and opened the dresser drawers, throwing jeans, a sweater, socks, underwear and shoes into the bag. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser. Her hair was a mess, strands poking from the ball cap. There was a smudge of blood on the wrinkled green scrub top she wore, probably from the abrasion on her shoulder. Blue-black smudges under her eyes spoke to her lack of sleep. There was a brassy taste in her mouth, and she was dying for a shower. Shaking her head, she went to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of toiletries. She gathered the dry-cleaning, still on the bed, and flung it over her arm. With what he kept at her place, this would tide him over until the apartment was no longer a crime scene.

"Now, you can resume normal activities in another day or two. The steri strips will need to stay on for a week, and you want to avoid getting them wet for 48 hours. You want to avoid operating a motor vehicle or major decisions for 24 hours." The nurse went on to explain the rest of the discharge instructions as Bobby scarfed the breakfast that Alex brought him: eggs, bacon, hash browns and coffee. The nurse asked them if they had questions. "No, ma'am," Bobby answered, and signed the papers with a flourish. "Do I have to ride in that?" he indicated the wheelchair.

"No, but we do need to escort you to the exit," the nurse replied. "Lindsey, our tech, can walk you out."

Bobby settled back in the seat with a sigh of relief, as Alex maneuvered the car out of the hospital lot and headed towards Forest Hills.

"How'd it go with IA?" she asked, after a silence.

"Not bad," he said. After a beat, he added. "They-uh, asked about the woman who obviously lived with me."

"Oh," she said. "So, are we outed?"

"Nope, told them it was none of their business," he grinned.

"You could have told them," she chided.

"Like I said, none of their business," he chuckled.

She laughed outright, "More fun to torture them, huh?"

"You know me too well," he agreed. "So, what's the state of my apartment?"

Alex groaned, "Looks like your typical crime scene decimation. Door busted, print dust everywhere..." she bit her lip. "I've probably have trashed your rug and couch for good."

"It's okay, they weren't worth much anyway," he assured her, squeezing her hand.

"I need a shower in the worst way," Bobby commented as they walked in to Alex's apartment.

"Me, too," she agreed. "But we have to figure out a way to keep this from getting wet," she fingered the bandage on his neck.

"And what about yours?' he touched her shoulder.

"Tell you what, I'll fill the tub, and I'll wash your hair for you. You can just tip your head back and I'll use a pitcher or something to rinse it," she smiled.

"And you'll join me," he tugged at her shirt.

"Now I know you're all right, wanting me naked," she laughed.

"Glad that you're alive," he pulled her into his arms, shaking. "I can't tell you what I'd have done..."

"When I saw her holding the scalpel to your neck...it was all my worst nightmares come to life," she admitted, starting to cry.

"Sorry, so sorry, my love," he rained kisses on her cheeks, his own tears mixing with hers.

"No more 'sorries.' She's out of our lives, can't hurt anyone else," she tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt.

In the bath, Alex carefully washed Bobby's hair, her heart twisting at the bumps and bruises. When that was done, she disrobed and climbed in.

"Now I get to do you," he chuckled, reaching for the pitcher and the shampoo.

"Feels really good," she murmured as he wove soapy fingers through her tresses.

"As good as the chair in a certain hotel room?" his hands wandered down to cup her breasts, tweak her nipples.

"Almost," her breath hitched as he moved lower. "God, Bobby."

"Hmm?" his tongue tickled her ear. "Like that?"

She rose and turned, straddling him, "No, like _**this**_," she impaled herself on his erection.

"Alex, love you," he groaned, trying to raise his hips.

"Let me..." she gasped against his lips, "love _**you**_," she tightened her muscles around him and set the pace.

Water splashed out of the tub, and as their slippery bodies moved together. Their release was quiet, and the moments after felt almost sacred. They lay in the cooling water, reluctant to break the spell.

The outside world had other ideas. The phone started to ring, with messages from the Eames family, Claire, Resa, Lewis, Jimmy Deakins.

"Guess playtime is over," Bobby dried Alex off.

"Maybe, maybe not," she grinned as they went into the bedroom. "Could stand a nap," she yawned.

"A clothes-optional nap sounds great," he drew back the covers.

"Let me call some of them back, so we can have some peace," Alex sat on the edge of the bed, while he crawled under the covers.

She dialed her dad first, then Liz. Bobby teasingly ran his fingertips down her spine, frowning at the stitches on her left shoulder.

"No, we don't need anything, Liz. If we're hungry, we can get takeout. We're more tired than hungry, anyway," Alex declared.

The shades were drawn against the bright autumn day, and the couple drifted into an almost stuporous sleep. There would be regrets, nightmares and adjustments to come, but for now, the present was all that mattered.

_**Sigh. I know this is a short, concentrated chapter, but I wanted to get past the immediacy of the event. Having Alex kill Jo actually came from one of Kathryn's chats. She said that she had always hoped Eames would have to kill Nicole to save Bobby. Since Nicole was dead, I thought it was poetic justice that Alex finish off the evil woman who kidnapped and tried to kill her, and she got to save her Bobby. In chapters to come, there will be angst and guilt, but most of all, a deepening commitment between our heroes. Plus, I didn't want you to think I've given up on this story. I continue to appreciate any and all feedback. Oh, and if anyone knows how to translate the reviews in other languages, let me know. Thanks!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Thanks for your patience in waiting for this next chapter. Not exactly writers block, but more writers impatience. I want to zoom this story along, but my attention to gory detail won't let me. There does have to be an aftermath to these traumatic events, after all. So we will have the angst factor, and a little therapy. But never fear, we have a little adult healing as well. I watched Cloo run 10.7 and 10.8 Friday night. Sniff. Sob. There needs to be more! I don't own them, but I sure do love taking them out to play. Adult content applies.**_

Bobby woke with a start, disoriented. He glanced at the clock: 5:30 PM. What the hell? Then the memories came rushing back, as well as the pain in his head and neck. He moved gingerly, trying not to wake a sleeping Alex. He ran a fingertip lightly over the stitches in her shoulder, bile rising in his throat. Every muscle in his body hurt as he got up and went to the bathroom. He quietly opened drawers in the bedroom, pulled on some clothes. He found the prescription bottle on the kitchen table, and shook a couple pills into his hand, washing it down with a glass of water. He opened the fridge and considered a beer and dismissed the thought. If not a beer, then at least a smoke. He scrawled a note to Alex and left it on the nightstand.

The weather was cooling off, the crispness of autumn in the air. Leaves crunched under his feet as he walked to the corner bodega.

The young clerk looked concerned as she sold him a couple packs of cigarettes, probably noticing Bobby's wounds.

"You should see the other guy," he said, winking. He lit up as he exited the store, inhaling deeply. The narcotics were numbing his physical discomfort as he walked back to the apartment. However, he struggled with the emotional pain as the events of the last day unspooled in his mind like a choppy movie. The sound of Jo's vitriol, the roar of the gunshots...his fear of losing Alex. He rubbed at his neck, cursing his inability to protect her once again.

His thoughts were dark, and he avoided going back upstairs. He circled around the building, and found a packing crate as a makeshift seat. He puffed away, thinking about Declan, his influence on Jo, and how that impacted his life. Dec had done a lot of positive things for Bobby, but it came at a terrible price. He lost his brother ostensibly through his mentor's actions. If that wasn't bad enough, Gage's poisonous parenting had put Alex's life in danger not once, but twice. It cost Jo her sanity, many innocent lives...and by extension her own life. Bobby lit another smoke, and ruminated on that. He worried about Alex. In spite of her assurances that she was all right, he remembered the toll her kidnapping had taken. PTSD had plagued her for the years since.

Bobby was morose. Why was it, when his life with Alex was so happy, that fate or karma came in and slapped them up side the head? He thought about the beer in the fridge and the liquor bottles in the kitchen cupboard. Maybe he just needed to shut his brain down.

Alex rolled over, and encountered Bobby's pillow but no Bobby. She sat up, instantly awake. There was a note in his familiar scrawl, on the nightstand. "Out for a breath of fresh air." Right. That usually meant he was out back having a smoke. Her conscience smote her. If anyone deserved indulging a vice, it was her partner.

She got up stiffly, scowling at the ache in her shoulder. She fumbled through the dresser and found underwear and sweats. After a stop in the bathroom to take car of necessities, dress and brush her teeth, she went in search of Bobby. Sure enough, he was in the back alley, perched on an old packing crate, puffing away.

"Did you sleep?" she asked softly, pressing a kiss on the uninjured side of his neck.

"I did," he crushed out the butt under his foot. "Got up about an hour ago," he squinted up at the last vestiges of daylight.

"You could've woke me," Alex leaned against him.

He smiled gently, running his fingers through her hair, "You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart. Besides, I've had a lot more sleep than you the past 24 hours," he finished bitterly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, concerned.

"Like a truck hit me," he admitted, after a beat.

"Will get better," she pressed her forehead to his.

"Sure," Bobby was unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Alex took a deep breath, "Before you consider torturing yourself over this, remember: she's dead, and we're alive. And if she'd succeeded in killing you, my life...would have been over. I lost one man in my life, and I don't plan on losing another. Are we clear?"

He lit up another cigarette, and considered her words, "You're getting bossy in your old age, you know that?"

"Who are you calling old?" she grinned. "I plan on being 39 for another ten, fifteen years."

He grabbed her hand, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

"I love you, Bobby. Nothing else matters right now," she whispered.

He still didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around her tightly.

Back in her apartment, Bobby leafed through the takeout menus in the kitchen, "So, what will it be? Pizza? Chinese? Thai? Deli? Burgers?"

"Um, what about sushi?" she asked innocently, knowing that was not among his favorites.

"Live squid," he countered, narrowing his eyes.

"Okay, pizza," she decided.

"With salad and breadsticks, extra marinara," he agreed, dialing the phone.

She set the table with paper plates and opened a couple beers, "Wait, did you take one of these?" she shook the bottle of pills.

He took a healthy swig from the bottle," Nope, I took two."

"Jesus, you shouldn't..." she stopped. "I'll shut up now."

"It was hours ago, probably worn off," he assured her.

He downed one beer and opened another, letting the buzz settle him, "I gotta call Gyson in the morning, set up an appointment."

"And I need to call Olivet," Alex sipped more slowly on her beer. "See if I can get in tomorrow, so I can go back to work Wednesday."

Bobby nodded, "Sounds like a plan."

"Hey, I was talking me, not you," she shook her head.

"The instructions said I could go back in a couple days," he reminded her. "Besides, you know we'll both be riding a desk for a while."

"I guess," she said reluctantly.

"Look at it this way, you can keep an eye on me much better at work," he gave her a lopsided smile as he finished his second beer. "Another?"

"Sure," she went to the fridge and pulled out another bottle. "Here."

"Water?" he groused.

"You can have another when the food gets here," she bargained.

"Maybe I can change your mind," Bobby grabbed at her butt.

Alex laughed, "Quit the puppy dog eyes, it will get you nowhere."

Once the food came, their appetites were surprisingly good, helped along by the rest of the six pack of beer.

"Great dinner, babe," he lounged on the sofa, Alex laying on top of him.

"Secret family recipe," she giggled.

They dozed lightly, the TV volume on low.

About eight, the phone rang. Alex sighed and turned her head, snuggling against Bobby's chest.

"Phone," he muttered.

"I know, I'm ignoring it," she rubbed her nose on his shirt.

"Might be your family," Bobby yawned.

"Pretty sure it is," Alex mumbled.

Sure enough, it was her brother Jack, "Damn it, Alex, I know you're there. Dad said Bobby's place is a crime scene. Pick up." Click.

Next call was from her sister in law, Darla, "Hey, Lex, know you're probably resting. Liz and I talked and we're planning on bringing meals this week. Give us a ring with what times work best for you and Bobby."

"God, call her back," Bobby shook her lightly.

"Why?" she groaned.

"Free homemade food," he was awake now.

"I can cook!" she said indignantly, lifting her head.  
>"But if we're going back to work Wednesday, it'd save you so much work," he backpedaled.<p>

"Nice save," she scowled and climbed off of him.

She returned Darla's call, "Yes, we'll be here this week for sure. Uh huh. We're so grateful...Really not necessary...call you tomorrow...bye."

They both slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, finally giving up on bed at five thirty.

"Call Liz, she makes great cinnamon rolls," Bobby suggested as they stumbled into the kitchen.

"The bakery makes better ones, and it's only two miles away," she enticed. "Feel like a run?"

"I think so," he sighed, coughing.

"And maybe cut back the smokes?" she pleaded.

"I'll do my best," he tugged at a strand of her hair.

"That's good enough for me," she grinned.

The air was crisp, with the autumn smell of crisp leaves and smoke from a few fireplaces. The endorphins washed away some of the aches and fatigue. The early hour meant they were the first customers at the bakery, and they sipped on steaming coffee between bites of warm cinnamon rolls.

"Damn, I miss my phone," Alex grumbled.  
>"Maybe we can get them back from IA today," he agreed.<p>

The rest of their morning was taken up with calls to therapists, family, friends, and to the captain. He agreed to retrieve their phones, and said he'd stop by later in the day with them.

Dr Gyson fit Bobby in at four that afternoon. Bobby took the train, wanting some think time before meeting his therapist.

She was taken aback by her patient's appearance as he took a seat. The bruising was still evident, and the dressing was stark white against his neck. He was pale, quiet.

"You've had a traumatic weekend," she said, by way of opening.

"Didn't start out that way," Bobby rubbed at his neck gingerly.

"Tell me about that?" she inquired.

"Alex's niece got married, and we...it was nice. Stayed at a hotel, did the couple thing," he smiled briefly.

"And then?" she prompted.

"And then the psychotic daughter of my mentor escaped custody and tried to kill Alex and me," he said sarcastically. "A real buzz kill, as the kids say."

"How did that make you feel?" Gyson queried.

"How the fuck do you think I feel?" he got up and roamed the room, his anger palpable.

"You need to tell me, Robert," she said firmly.

"Guilty, pissed off and helpless," Bobby shot back.

"Good, you're giving voice to those feelings," she praised.

"I've made _**so much**_ progress," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "The one person I care about more than anything, and I almost get her killed."

"_**What happened?"**_ her tone was acutely confrontational.

"Jo Gage broke into my apartment while I was gone. She clocked me on the head and drugged me," he said.

"And Alex was with you?" she asked.

"No, uh, I left her at her place. She had a headache, was a little hung over," he recalled. "We had shut our phones off, so we didn't get the word Jo was out. I guess I got my messages when I was going in the door at my place, and called Alex to warn her," he closed his eyes.

"You guess?" she wondered.

"Between being knocked out and the drugs...I don't really remember much," Bobby admitted.

"How did you get the wound on your neck?" Gyson asked.

He closed his eyes, "Jo did it when Alex wouldn't give up her gun. She shot at her with one hand, had a scalpel to my neck with the other."  
>"And Alex, was she hurt?" Gyson fought the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.<p>

"Her shoulder...the bullet just grazed. Alex...shot Jo to save me," Bobby dropped heavily onto the couch.

"And Jo is dead," Gyson finished.

"Yeah," he said. "And how was your weekend?"

"A lot of trauma for you both," she ignored his sarcasm. "Is Alex getting some counseling?"

"Yes, she's seeing Olivet tomorrow," Bobby scrubbed his hands over his face. "So, Doc, back to square one?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she demurred. "The man who walked into this office five months ago wouldn't have been so forthcoming."

"Feels like I'm back to where I was then," he admitted.

"I won't sugarcoat-this is a setback. And we have a lot of work to do to get past this," Gyson was blunt. "Sessions twice a week. Medication for anxiety, maybe something to help you sleep." She reached for a prescription pad.

He stood up angrily, waving her away, "I don't want any drugs!"

"For the short term," Gyson looked at him sharply. "Because self medication with alcohol is not in your best interest."

He took the slips of paper reluctantly.

Alex opened the door to Captain Hannah.

"Did I come at a bad time?" he glanced around the living room as he sat down.

"No, my sister in law just brought dinner," she smiled. "Want something to drink?"

"Just here to bring back your phones and update you on the investigation. Bobby around?" he wondered.

"At the shrink's office," she replied, plopping on the couch. "He should be back in a little while."

"You get an appointment made, detective?" he queried.

"Tomorrow morning at eight," she answered. "I should be in the office about nine thirty or so."

"And your partner?" Joe asked.

"I suspect he'll be at his desk at the crack of dawn," she said wryly.

He sighed, "The desk is where you'll both be until you're cleared by IA and medical."

Alex nodded, "We know."

They were interrupted by Bobby's key turning in the lock.

"Hey, Joe," Bobby shook his hand.

"Good to see you up and around, man," Joe said sincerely.

"Are you sure you don't want to call Sharon and have her join us? There's enough food in the kitchen to feed an army," Alex invited.

"No, thanks. I'm meeting her for dinner," he declined.

The door was barely shut behind him, when Alex wrapped her arms around Bobby and kissed him. "God, I wanted to do that the second you came in the door."

Bobby laughed, "You could have, I wouldn't mind."

"Right, in front of the boss," she said wryly.

"Aw, hell, don't you think he hasn't figured it out?" he murmured into her hair.

"I just am not interested in rocking the proverbial boat right now," she gave him another kiss. "How was your session?"

"She thinks I'm nuts," he said sardonically.

"Christ," she breathed, shoving his chest lightly.

"It was okay," he kissed the top of her head, and moved into the kitchen. "Something smells really good."

"Some kind of chicken pot pie with cheesy biscuit topping, fruit salad, and chocolate chip cookies," Alex followed in his wake.

"Great!" he opened the oven. "Is it done yet?"

"Yes, here're the potholders," she answered. "What do you want to drink? Darla brought a bottle of Chablis."

"Then wine it is," he set the steaming dish on the already-set table.

Over dinner, Bobby avoided the heavier subjects of the past couple days, and instead talked about how excited he was to be going back to work in the morning.

Alex decided not to force the issue, hoping that he would share when he was ready. Between them, they finished the bottle of wine. "Lord, I need to run around the borough after all that," she sat back in the chair, rubbing her stomach.

"It was starting to rain when I came in earlier," Bobby rose from his chair and took her hand. "Maybe..." he drug the syllables out, "we can find an indoor activity to burn those calories."

"Hmm, I kinda like that idea," she giggled.

He pushed her up against the counter, lifting her shirt, nuzzling her neck, "My favorite dessert," he murmured, licking the soft skin behind her ear.

She felt a pleasant tickle from his touch and the wine coursing through her veins, "Want to take this to the bedroom?"

"In a bit," he whispered, pushing her jeans over her hips. His fingers danced in the waistband of her panties, teasing and pulling back.

"I know this game," Alex breathed, searching for the snap and zipper on his jeans, her small hand reaching inside.

His breath hissed, "You certainly do."

"Maybe the bed is overrated," she agreed as his hands moved up and unhooked her bra, his fingertips caressing her nipples.

"We can save that for round two," he lifted her onto the counter, and stroked between her thighs.

Alex moaned at his leisurely seduction, "Bobby, that feels...too...much..."she shuddered.

He guided himself inside her, the pleasure washing away the bitterness at least temporarily. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her legs wrapped around his waist, the sounds of their bodies moving together...better than any drug known to man.

"Mmm, nice choice to work off those calories," she chuckled as she slid off the counter and reached for her discarded jeans.

"You don't need those," he grabbed the garment out of her hands.

"So, you want me to clean up the kitchen in my panties?" she countered.

"Nice view while I help you," Bobby picked up her bra and shirt.

"Says the man who has most of his clothes on," she retorted.

"Then strip me," he extended his arms. "I promise I won't even put up a fight."

Further discussion was forestalled by the ring of the doorbell, "Were we expecting company?" he inquired as Alex snatched the clothes from his hand and hastily dressed.

"No, what kind of guests show up on a night like this?" she snarked.

"Rude ones," he kissed her cheek. "I'll get the door if you need a minute to...gather your thoughts."

"You'd better gather yours first," she ran a hand over his open fly as the bell rang yet again.

Alex went to the door and opened it to Jack and Maeve, "Hey, I thought you'd still be recovering from the weekend," she greeted them.

Jack gathered his sister into a bear hug, "We were in the neighborhood having dinner and thought we'd check on you."

Bobby invited them in, "That was really nice."

"Bobby and I were just cleaning up the kitchen. Darla brought us dinner," Alex sat on the arm of Bobby's chair while Jack and Maeve sat on the couch.

"Her pot pie," Maeve nodded. "I signed up for Sunday, pot roast and vegetables."

"The Eames family version of the Red Cross," Alex sighed. "Is Liz the chairwoman?"

"Of course," Maeve looked anxious. "She was terrified for both of you, and wants to make your recovery as stress-free as possible. We all do."

"I will never turn down pot roast," Bobby grinned. "Forgive our bad manners, would like something to drink? Beer? Soda?"

"I wouldn't mind a beer, if it's no trouble," Jack admitted.

"Not at all. Maeve?" he inquired.

"A diet soda would be great, thanks," she smiled.

Alex got up and grabbed Bobby's hand, "Help me with the drinks, sweetie?"

"Happy to," he knew by her sugary tone that he was in for it.

"Really, Bobby?" she said under her breath as she got the drinks.

"Extending your family hospitality," he grinned as he popped the tops on a couple beers and put ice in glasses for Maeve and Alex's sodas.

"Bite me," she muttered.

"Later," he whispered.

Whether it was the alcohol, or their little post-dinner interlude, Bobby was the charming host. He avoided from the subject of their attack, instead engaging Jack and Maeve in conversation about the wedding and reception.

Alex was quiet, marveling at his ability to switch gears so seamlessly. She knew he'd had a difficult session with Gyson. And the return to work tomorrow was going to be rough, for both of them.

It was after eleven when Bobby closed the door behind their guests.

"Finally," Alex huffed.

"They were worried," he kissed the top of her head.

"I know," she said, a little guilty.

"What, were you afraid I'd be too tired for round two?" he asked slyly.

She cursed his ability to pick up a thought, even hours after the fact, "I'm afraid I'll oversleep for my appointment with Olivet in the morning."

"You won't, I promise," he assured her as they tidied the kitchen.

"I know, Mr Up-at the-crack of-dawn," Alex set the timer on the coffee maker.

"We can leave round two for tomorrow night," he said, switching off the lights.

"I am pretty tired," she admitted as she pulled the covers back on the bed.

"So'm I," he slurred slightly as he crawled in beside her.

"Did you take a pain pill?" she fretted.

"Yeah, just one," Bobby admitted.

"Mixing the drugs with the alcohol is not very smart," Alex couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice.

He stiffened a bit and said, "It'll help me sleep."

She bit her lip, blinking back unexpected tears. She snuggled close to him and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I love you."

"Love you too," he whispered, then turned on his side away from her.

Alex put her arm around his waist and spooned against him. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and his body relaxed. Tired as she was, her brain wouldn't shut up. She found herself anxiously listening for Bobby's breathing, worried about the self-medicating he was doing. Usually the rain pelting against the windows soothed her, but not tonight. The wine she'd consumed earlier made her restless, thirsty. And then there was her morning appointment with Olivet. She'd spent her waking hours staying busy, not thinking too much about Sunday's events. But now, with only her thoughts for company, the memories came rushing back. Her heart pounded as she realized 'What if?'

What if Jo hadn't missed when she aimed the gun? She could have had a bullet in her head instead of a few lousy stitches in her shoulder. And Bobby...she shuddered. A few millimeters and he could have died, bled out before help arrived. She eased out from under the covers, padded out to the kitchen, poured a large glass of ice water, downed it quickly, and got another. She went into the bathroom, shut the door and turned the tub taps on, adding lavender oil to the steaming water. Alex left the light off, sipping the icy water while she willed herself to relax.

After an hour in the bath, she got up and wrapped herself in a buttery soft robe, an extravagance from a few years back. She curled up on the couch, a cup of hot tea at her elbow, the TV on low. She finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

Bobby woke before the alarm, reaching over to shut it off so he wouldn't wake Alex. He was still a little foggy, but aware enough to realize he was alone in the bed. He had a vague feeling that he had upset her last night. He got up and stumbled into the bathroom, frowning at the bandage on his neck. He peeled the edges of adhesive back, revealing the yellowing bruise, steri strips covering the incision. After a shower and careful shave, he dressed in a turtleneck instead of his usual shirt and tie, pulled on his pants and shrugged into a jacket.

The smell of coffee lured him into the kitchen, and he poured two mugs, generously sugaring one. Bobby brought her mug to the living room, waving it under her nose.

"Mmm," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Did you sleep out here all night?" he regarded her soberly.

"Must have," she yawned and struggled more upright.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he stroked her hair.

"No, just couldn't shut my brain up," she sighed.

"Are we all right?" he blurted.

She looked over at him, "I guess so. I just...the self-medicating thing. Worries me."

He case his eyes downward, "I know. Trying to keep my head above water."

Alex took a healthy sip of coffee, "You can talk to me, Bobby."  
>Words stuck in his throat. He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek.<p>

"Hey, you shaved," she smiled.

"Thought it might be a nice gesture for my partner, first day back at work and all," Bobby cracked.

"You're sweet," Alex leaned against the couch cushions.

"Alex, you don't have to go back to work today if you don't feel like it," he rubbed her thigh.

"Yes, I do," she said firmly.

"Stubborn," he sighed.

"Look who's talking," she fired back. Softening her tone, she added. "We need to keep each other out of trouble, don't we?"

"Guess so," he rose and kissed her lightly. "See you later."

After the door clicked closed, she got up and headed for the bedroom. She scowled as she picked up Bobby's jeans, carelessly discarded from the night before. She saw a flutter of blue fall from his pocket, and unfolded it. She read the two prescriptions, and realized he hadn't any intentions of filling them. Oh, well-she'd drop them off on her way to work. She hit the shower. Stinging hot water and another cup of coffee later, and she was ready to go. She eschewed her usual run in favor of seeing Dr Olivet.

Alex began the session with little preamble, "Been a pisser of a week."

Olivet nodded, "I've heard."  
>"What, through the press or my employer?" Alex snarked.<p>

"Both," the doctor replied. "How about you tell me about it."

She snorted, "The Cliff notes version is that Jo Gage tried to kill Bobby and me, so I shot her dead."  
>The therapist leaned forward in her chair, "That was Sunday. How about the days since? How are you coping?"<br>"Booze and sex," Alex retorted.

"Detective..." Olivet groaned.

"Okay, this is how I feel. I feel nothing for Jo, other than total contempt. She's dead, so she can't ever hurt us again. Haven't had a nightmare. I try not to think about what would have happened if she had succeeded in killing us. I am more worried about Bobby. He feels guilty for putting me in harm's way," Alex got up and paced the room. "That-the Gage family might never loosen their hold on him."

"He told you that?" the doctor asked.

"The guilt part, yeah. But he's...he's falling back on his old coping habits...drinking, smoking too much, that worries me more than anything," Alex bit her lip.

"And you are using your tough act to cover your own emotions," Olivet confronted her. "The use of deadly force, even justified force, is still a dreadful part of your job. It takes a toll."

"I _**know**_ it does," she replied. "But if I hadn't shot her, it is likely that Bobby and I would both be dead. As I told him, I lost one husband to this job, I don't plan on losing another."

"You referred to Bobby as your husband," Olivet countered.

"Freudian slip," Alex sighed, picking at a cuticle. "But it did bring back some of those...fears."

"And those fears are a normal part of who you are, Alex. You can try to bury them, ignore, them, but they are still there," the therapist reminded her. "Addressing them now is vital to your own health and well-being."

"I know," her voice was barely above a whisper.

After setting up a few extra appointments, and brushing off the possibilities of medication, Alex walked into the crisp October morning. The rain from the night before had moved on, leaving a few puffy clouds in a crystal blue sky. The trees were turning beautiful colors. All in all, a nice autumn day. She maneuvered the car into traffic, planning a stop for coffee and Bobby's favorite danish.

Bobby rubbed at his itchy neck, cursing his decision to wear the turtleneck. He put his binder on his desk, and glanced around the bullpen. Only a few of his colleagues were there at this early hour, so he could immerse himself into work without distraction. He flipped open his laptop and logged in to his work email account. Lots of messages, some from IA, the PBA, and one from the chief of D's. He diligently read through them, noting with some surprise that there were several messages of support from his fellow officers.

The office came to life as the clock crawled towards eight thirty. Coworkers stopped by his desk to greet him, express surprise at his quick return, and worst of all, praise him for his role in ending Jo Gage's reign of terror. He acknowledged them as gracefully as possible, but was relieved when Captain Hannah entered the squad and waved them off. "Detective, in my office."

Hannah opened a manila envelope and pulled out Bobby's gun, "You've been cleared by the suits. Your apartment will be released later today, if you want to go clean things up."

"No, it can wait," Bobby shook his head.

"And if you need help with that, I'm available. Detectives Rich, Daniels, Falacci...they all have offered," Joe continued.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "Um, Alex's family, they've offered, too."

"You're both on desk until Monday, then you're back on full duty, pending written approval from psych services and your surgeon," Hannah added.

Bobby nodded, "That all?"

He handed him a foot-tall stack of files, "Welcome back, Bobby."

"Gee, thanks," he left the office and resumed his seat at his desk. He opened the file in front of him, only to have his desk phone. "Goren."

"What's this bullshit, I have to hear about it from Falacci?" Mike Logan's voice boomed in his ear.

"And how are you, Logan?" Bobby was a bit surprised.

"Seriously, how are you and your partner?" he sounded concerned.

"Spent a few days locked in the loony bin, but they let us out when we didn't mutter and spit," he shot back. "We're fine."

"Anything Gina and I can do for you, just say the word," Mike replied.

"Well, my apartment could use a crime scene cleanup detail," Bobby said, half-jokingly.

He looked up as Alex put a cup of coffee and the danish in front of him. He mouthed his thanks. A few more minutes and he hung up.

"Logan not busy enough running a bar and PI business?" Alex joked, taking some of the files and taking a seat at her desk.

"Evidently not," Bobby took a bite of the pastry. "And I refuse to turn down free labor."

She raised an eyebrow, "So?"

"The apartment will be released this afternoon, and Joe has your gun," he smiled.

"So we're cleared?" she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Yep," he nodded, then lowered his voice, "And how was your morning?"

"All right," she kept her tone light. "Really."

The rest of their day was uneventful. The captain ordered take out Chinese and they had a general office pig-out. Bobby and Alex slowly whittled the backlog of paperwork, returned phone calls and emails. It was nearly six o'clock before they stood up from their desks.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked as she drove to Greenpoint.

"Yeah," he nodded as she pulled into a parking space near his building. "What about you?"

"I was here the other day to get clothes for you," she shrugged. _**But I didn't look too long or hard**_, she added silently. "I-uh, found the prescriptions Gyson wrote for you. Took them to Walgreen's to get filled this morning."

"Forgot about it," he said, evading her glance.

"Right," she huffed. "They fell out of your jeans pocket this morning."

"I don't need them," he countered.

"She wrote them for a reason," Alex said quietly.

"I'll get them tomorrow," he gave in with little grace.

The doorway was covered with plywood, and the seal was in place. "At least they took the crime scene tape down," he said dourly. "Better go around back, I guess."

Bobby unlocked the back entrance and preceded Alex into the apartment. His nose was immediately assaulted with the decomposing blood and body fluid. He reached for the light switch, and frowned as his fingers were coated with print dust. "Fuck," he muttered softly, wiping his hand on his pants.

Alex hung back, watching his reaction to the miserable mess.

He was mutely looking at the chair he'd been bound to, the blood on the back, and the zip ties and discarded medical supplies on the floor.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as he saw the splatters and pooling on the floor, furniture, and walls.

Alex stood behind him, fighting a terrible sense of deja vu. She walked into this door just a few days ago, to see Bobby in that chair, with Jo... She glanced to the left, fingering the hole in the door frame. A sudden wave of nausea washed over her and she pushed past Bobby, running towards the bathroom. She didn't even feel the pain as her knees hit the cold tile floor. Her stomach rapidly lost its contents and she retched uncontrollably. Next to her, Bobby was vomiting into the sink.

It was a good twenty minutes before they recovered. Bobby forced his shaking legs the few steps into the hall to get a couple of towels from the linen closet. Wordlessly, he rinsed the sink, and wet both towels, sinking to the floor next to Alex. "Here," he croaked, offering her one.

She took it and scrubbed her face weakly.

Bobby put his head between his knees, trying to quell the ringing in his ears. His home, their home...it wasn't fancy, but there had been some happy times here. Alex's mere presence had made it so. Would they ever feel that again? Once the smell and the mess and the fear...He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't fight the sudden deep fatigue.

"Put your head here," she whispered.

In the cramped quarters, he did as she asked, closing his eyes as her fingers soothed gently through his gray curls.

Alex propped her back against the tub, afraid to say anything to break the fragile spell between them.

The cold from the tub and the tile floor seeped into them, darkness took over the apartment.

"Hard," she whispered.

"Uh huh," Bobby gulped.

"What...what do you want to do first?" she asked.

"I-uh, get some clothes, the rest...too much to clean up tonight. Got to talk to the super about a new front door, uh, offer to paint..." he felt a roaring in his head.

"New locks?" she wondered.

"Why? She's not coming back!" he looked up at her.

His tone frightened her, and tears ran down her cheeks, "I know, that was...dumb," she blurted.

He took in her pale face, "I'm sorry, baby," he sat up and held her close as she began to sob.

Alex continued to shake as they clung to each other, "Second-home...and she...desecrated...it," the words were wrung from her.

"Give me a minute, and we'll get out of here, okay?" he got stiffly to his feet and offered her his hand. "Do you want to wait in the car?"

"No, now I gotta pee," she admitted ruefully.

He disappeared into the bedroom, ostensibly to get more clean clothes, and retrieve the dirty ones for the laundry and dry cleaner. But the first thing he did was make sure the rings were in their hiding place, deep in the closet. They were. He debated for a minute taking them with him, but decided that if CSU didn't find them, it was probably a safe place. Besides, if he took them to Alex's, the risk of her finding them was that much greater.

Bobby closed the velvet box, and put it back. He pulled the full hamper from the closet, as well as a suitcase and routed through his dresser.

Alex appeared in the doorway, "Let me help."

"Uh, this stuff is clean. Should be enough to get me through the week," he indicated the open suitcase on the rumpled bed.

"We can take the bedding, too," she said. "I'll wash it tomorrow."

"No hurry, can't imagine that this place will be fit to live in before the weekend," he said sarcastically.

"Call in those volunteers for Saturday and Sunday?" she asked.

"Yeah," he cast one last look around. "Ready?"

She picked up the suitcase, while he took the overflowing hamper.

They stopped to talk to the building superintendent, Mr Otis, on the way out. The man was very accommodating, saying that a new door and locks had been ordered. In spite of the recent disaster, Bobby had been a good tenant, and having a resident cop in the building was generally a selling point. The super also said to let him know about needs for cleaning and repairs.

Bobby reassured him that they would be back to return the apartment to order this weekend.

In the car, Alex spoke from a silence, "You missed a golden opportunity back there."  
>Lost in thought, Bobby asked, "When?"<p>

"Back in the super's apartment. You could have asked for a new oven, counters...cook-top," she teased.

"Not a refrigerator?" he shot back.

"Um, no, I have a rather emotional attachment to that particular appliance," she laughed.

He joined in her merriment, "Ah, yes. I'd hate to explain the fingermarks you left in the door."

"That was some morning, as I recall," she took the turn onto the expressway.

"Sure was," he looked out at the lights of the city. "Guess we'll have to make some new memories."

"We will," she assured him. Any further conversation was forestalled by the ringing of Alex's cell.

Bobby looked at the caller ID and picked up, "Liz. What's up?"

Liz sounded mildly vexed, "What's up is I have your dinner and an ornery seven year old waiting at your door. Where are you?"

"Oh, shit. We're...on our way. Sorry," he hit the end key.

"She's pissed," Alex stated.

"Oh, yeah," he said dourly, then brightened, "At least we don't have to cook."

"And Nate should be good for a little free entertainment," she agreed.

" Bobby, Aunt Alex, I made your dessert! All by myself!" Nate greeted them.

"Great job, little man!" Bobby unlocked the door and shoved hamper of clothes off to the side. "What did you bring us?"

"Strawberry ice cream!" he beamed. "Mom cooked the cream, but I measured it and poured it into the machine, and I washed the berries."

"Homemade?" Alex chortled.

"If it hasn't melted," Liz sighed, setting the insulated bag and picnic basket on the counter.

"Sorry, we stopped by the cri...by Bobby's apartment to get some things, and it took a little longer than we planned," Alex took dishes and silver from the cupboard and set four places at the table. "Is Eric joining us?"

"No, his dad is sick again, so he's running a few errands for his mom," Liz explained. "We didn't plan on staying, Lex."

"Oh, don't be silly," Bobby poured sodas for the adults, and milk for Nate. "Looks like you brought plenty of food.

"Yeah, and I'm _**hungry**_," Nate proclaimed, climbing into his chair.

Alex dished out ham-cheddar-broccoli rolls and rice pilaf, and took a seat next to her nephew. Bobby and Liz sat as well, and Nate reached for each of their hands.

"We have to say grace first," he insisted. He recited a rather long-winded prayer, including blessings for his sick grandpa, requests for his upcoming birthday, and... "And God bless Aunt Alex and Uncle Bobby. Amen!" he opened his eyes and dug into his food.

The adults discussed their week in general terms, taking care to keep any references to the events of Sunday night off Nate's radar.  
>Liz dished up the ice cream, and they slowly savored the fruity coldness.<p>

"This is so good," Alex sighed, licking her spoon. "Do I taste vanilla beans?"  
>"Um-hmm," Liz nodded.<p>

The apartment was quiet after Liz and Nate left. The dishes were in the dishwasher, and neither Bobby nor Alex felt like turning on the TV. Indeed, their fatigue was returning and an early bedtime seemed to be a good idea.

"Want to get up early and run?" Bobby asked as he set the alarm.

Alex let out a yawn, "Be a good idea."

_**It was dark, foggy. Bobby turned his head, trying to see where she was. He could hear her voice, but he couldn't see. Why couldn't he see? His arms and legs felt like lead. Alex, oh my God, no! Don't come in the door, she's got a gun...The blast roared next to his ear, the gunpowder stinging his cheek. Alex slumped to the floor, blood trickling from her temple. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He was falling through space, swimming in icy sweat.**_

"Bobby, Bobby, wake up! Wake up!" Alex was standing over him, shaking his shoulders.

"Dead, she killed you," he muttered, thrashing away from her.

"No, no! Open your eyes, sweetie, I'm right here," Alex climbed astride his thighs and slapped his cheeks lightly.

He squinted in the light from the dresser, "Alex, you're real?"

"Yeah," she pressed her mouth to his, stroking his damp cheeks.

Awareness shoved the nightmare away, and he pulled her tight to his chest. She was warm and soft, her breath on his cheek was sweet.

Alex's nightshirt was soaked in his sweat, and his heart beat crazily under her ear. His hands gripped her shoulders almost painfully. "It was a nightmare," she whispered and lifted her head.

"Seemed so real," he gasped.

"I know," she soothed.

"You were coming in the door, like Sunday, and I tried to warn you...but couldn't make a sound. Then the gun went off and...shot you in the head," Great sobs shook him.

Alex felt her own heart breaking as she tried to comfort him. She better than anyone knew how jarring the night terrors were. She had hoped they would dodge that particular bullet, but it seemed...no. "I'm going to get you some tea, run you a bath."

He squinted at the clock, "It's...two thirty in the morning. Just come back to bed with me."

"Warm chamomile tea, some lavender oil, dry flannel sheets...trust me," she smiled. "And if you talk really nice, I'll even share your bath."

"It all sounds good except that girly lavender," he threw the covers back.

"You know the calming effects of lavender, Mr Source of Useless Knowledge," Alex teased.

"I just don't want to smell like it," he chuckled, stripping off his pants.

"Well, maybe some on a diffuser," she compromised.

Alex rummaged for the essential oil and diffuser, then heated water for the tea while Bobby filled the tub. He slid into the steaming water.

She stripped the sheets off the bed, and replaced them with soft flannel ones.

"Are you coming?" his voice sounded almost plaintive.

"Just bringing the tea," she carefully balanced two mugs on the tub ledge, and climbed in front of him.

"This isn't too bad," he sipped cautiously. "Although a few fingers of Glenlivet..."

"Would have disturbed your REM sleep and dehydrated you," she finished with a yawn.

"Smart-ass," he nuzzled her neck.

"You bet," she snarked.

They managed a few extra hours of sleep, before their morning run and another day of paperwork. Alex went out for a drink with a few girlfriends Thursday night, while Bobby met Lewis and tossed back a few at Mike Logan's bar.

Friday they met with their respective therapists, and finished the stack of files on their desks. As Alex powered down her laptop she said succinctly, "Thirty days."

"Thirty days until?" Bobby asked.

"Thirty days from right now we'll be walking on the beach in San Diego," she smiled.

"Don't you mean, attending a law enforcement conference?" Falacci asked as she passed by their desks.

"Jealous, Nola?" Bobby grinned.

"Are you kidding? Dominick is taking me to Cancun for our wedding anniversary in February. No kids, no work, just sex, sand and lots of sunscreen," she retorted.

Early Saturday morning Bobby and the building super, Mr Otis, took a crowbar to the plywood securing the front entrance to the apartment. The clean up team, comprised of friends and family then went to work. Alex and Bobby were adamant that the initial sweep would be done by their law enforcement family and friends, to avoid traumatizing the civilian complement. First order of business was to open the windows to let air flow through, in spite of the chilly day. The bloody couch was hauled to a waiting truck, and the carpet was rolled, wrapped and discarded as well. The walls and floor were scrubbed free of the old blood and brain matter. Next, the fingerprint dust was addressed. Alex sent her sisters to the corner laundromat to wash the stray dirty linens and clothes.

By early afternoon, the surface cleaning was done. Everyone gathered for a potluck lunch, while deciding the game plan for the afternoon.

The guys worked on patching the rents in the plaster, while the ladies prepared to head to a local hardware store for paint.

"You're going to trust _**her**_ to pick paint?" Jack Eames chuckled, pointing at his sister.

"I told her she could pick any color as long as it was beige," Bobby deadpanned.

"Right," Alex snarked. "I was thinking more-uh, tangerine with chartreuse stripes."

"Do you even know what that would look like?" Darla shuddered.

"Yep, an orange and green zebra," she retorted.

"You need some furniture, man," Joe Hannah commented. "At least a couch."

"We can stop at Pottery Barn, if you like," Liz said innocently. "There's this nice sectional that's on sale.

The guys jeered, "Pottery Barn is a chick place!"

"And way beyond my budget," Bobby agreed. "I'll just cruise the second-hand stores, I'm not picky." He opened his wallet and peeled off several bills. "Need a credit card?"

The guys really gave him shit for that, "Never trust a woman with your plastic," Patrick groaned.

"Guys, your sister is probably one of the most conservative people with money I know," Bobby chuckled.

"Meaning I can spot a bargain anywhere. You can pay me back whenever," she said, striving to keep her tone casual in front of their boss and his wife.

By the time the women returned from their power shopping, there was a new door hung, complete with new locks for both doors. The guys were parked on the floor, and the few chairs, watching a ball game and drinking beer.

"Great," Alex rolled her eyes.

"It took you this long to pick paint?" Johnny laughed.

"You know women and shopping," Maeve brushed him off.

"Besides, Bobby needed a rug and a couch, new lamps, curtains..." Alex joined in.

Bobby snooped through the bags and boxes, "I don't see a couch here."

She held out her phone and showed him the picture, "Like this?"  
>"Looks kinda small," he squinted.<p>

She punched his arm, "It'll look nice with the orange paint."

"I thought it was butternut squash and dried cranberry," Sharon Hannah laughed.

"Squash and cranberries? That sounds like Thanksgiving dinner, not something you'd put on the walls," Eric teased.

Sunday night, virtually all traces of the carnage were erased. The walls were freshly painted, the longest wall the deep cranberry color, while the remaining walls were a subtle gold. New curtains hung at the windows in the living/dining area. A richly-colored rug covered the floor. The soft leather couch Alex had discovered in the trade-in section of the neighborhood furniture store stood at an angle, and a new recliner took the opposite corner. A trunk from the foot of Bobby's bed made a nice coffee table, and two new lamps added to the ambiance. Red and green apples were piled in a wooden bowl on the dining table, and the table itself was covered with a plaid cloth in fall colors.

Maeve's pot roast and vegetables were baking in the oven, an apple pie was cooling on the counter. Alex set the table with some inexpensive stoneware that she'd bought yesterday. She found a couple taper candles in the drawer, and a book of matches. Soft jazz was playing in the background. A bottle of barbaresco, ready to be poured.

Alex and Bobby were alone, their family and friends off to their own homes. He came to her in faded jeans and a sweater, fresh from his shower, "We don't have to stay here tonight."

She smiled up at him, "I want to, unless...you want to be alone. I'd understand."

"I want you here," his voice was husky, looking around the transformed living/dining/kitchen area. "Kinda like christening a new place."

"I hope I didn't overstep," she kissed him lingeringly.

"Oh, the place looks better than it has in years," he nibbled behind her ear.

"Hold that thought while I grab a quick shower," she held a hand to his mouth.

After her shower, she put on a trail of perfume and reached for a black teddy.

Bobby stood in the doorway of the bedroom, "Whoa!" he whistled in a appreciation. "I like."

"You're a bit overdressed," she took the silk robe she'd bought for his birthday from the closet.

"Undress me," he said hoarsely, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"With pleasure," her hands tugged at the hem of the sweater, carefully pulling it over his head.

He pressed his face into her cleavage, cherishing the feel of silk, the scent of her perfume, listening to her quickening heart and breath.

"Bobby," she moaned softly. "I was undressing you."

"Hmm, we'll get back to that," he sucked softly through the thin material, making her nipples ache.

"Feels so good," she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair.

The straps slid from her shoulders, her breasts now fully exposed. He continued to slowly feast on her skin, even lightly licking at the healing wound on her shoulder.

Bobby's groin tightened exponentially to the sound of her voice, the taste of her skin, "Delicious," he murmured. His hand wandered beneath the silky hem of the teddy, fingertips stroking the damp curls then the velvety crease hidden inside.

Alex's knees began to shake, arousal curling from her center, "Oh oh oh!" her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Can't stand...anymore."

He stopped for a moment, and laid her crosswise on the bed, "Better?"

"Yeah...but let me..." she tugged at the snap of his jeans, and worked the zipper.  
>"In a minute," he brushed her hand away and rolled on his side. His tongue and fingers resumed their sensual journey.<p>

Alex arched off the bed as his hands held her thighs apart, and he positioned his mouth over her.

There were no words or conscious thought as the ecstasy flooded her.

It could have been seconds or hours as the haze slowly receded, "I was actually going to feed you dinner first," she gasped finally.

"Dessert first," he grinned wolfishly, pulling her mouth to his.

"Have to get these off," she shoved him onto his back and pushed jeans and briefs over his hips, and then tossed them on the floor. Alex stretched her body over his like a cat, taking her sweet time with her own tongue and digits to pleasure him.

Bobby tried to stay still, but he was teetering on the brink of release, "Alex, baby, if you do that much more..."

She flicked her tongue teasingly over the tip, "You were saying?" She engulfed him fully.

Tears rolled from his eyes as he spasmed, the orgasm flooding his senses.

They lay side by side, catching their breath. "Definitely dessert first," Alex smiled, her hand stroking his chest.

_**And there you have it, chapter 14. In number 15, Bobby and Alex get to spend a lovely, smutty week in San Diego, California, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, IMHO. Let's see, they're supposed to be at a law enforcement conference. Right. It can't all be work :) I appreciate feedback in any language, as I figured out how to use Bing translator. **_


End file.
